My Little Lover
by itsu-sual
Summary: A collection of Megatron x Starscream drabbles, set in the movie-verse. Rated T for safety.
1. Favouritism

**Favouritism**

Megatron x Starscream, pre-2007 movie

* * *

It wasn't of particular interest to any of the other guardians, or of the Autobots outside their home.

It was subtle, something not easily understood by their kind.

It wasn't love - at least not in the usual sense. Yet there was a tenderness in the arguments between the Lord Protector and his second, an understanding and tolerance between them that was never spoken aloud, or to be spoken of.

The air commander pushed boundaries, tried already thin patience, each time with a sense of dread in the other guardians that the fifth second in command this century was about to be well and truly slagged…

…and sighs of confusion and relief when Starscream was left barely living, dragged to repairs, scraped along the floor by Megatron himself.

There was a twisted respect between the two. In his mockery and treachery, the second gave his Lord the challenge he needed to stay at the top. In his punishments and berating, the Lord Protector gave his second the determination and resilience to become his heir.

In the scrapes, scratches, scars, rips, blows, punches, punishments, for all the pain and screams, there was favouritism - because Starscream was still alive.


	2. Firm

**The Fair and The Firm**

Disclaimer: I don't own any Transformers.

This chapter is from Starscream's POV. Based on a line about Optimus and Megatron in the prequel comic.

* * *

They call one the "fair", the other the "firm".

My lover is firm.

It was calm and peaceful, cold and silent, the night before he made his move. He did not call me to him, and yet he didn't object when I found myself at the door of his quarters. He leaned over his balcony, colossal, waiting to strike, while I stayed in the shadows. In his shadows, where he liked me to be.

"I will only ask this once," I said quietly, so quietly only his audio components could hear me. I edged closer into his shadow, my air vents sighing onto the blades of his back.

"Say that you love me."

It was more than I hoped for that he turned to consider me, sizing me up in his blood red optics. He raised a claw, tracing a favourite plate on my face.

"Not tonight, my Starscream," he whispers.

My lover is firm. I didn't push the matter.

It isn't until thousands of years of separation, so many cycles searching for the All Spark, that he lies dying on a foreign world. The Autobots move out, and I swoop down to cradle my broken Lord, and then, there is only the faintest whisper on the wind.

"_I love you._"


	3. Lullaby

**Lullaby**

Set on Cybertron before the war, again. 2007 movie-verse. I still don't own anything (sad face).

* * *

It was one of the great mysteries in the home of the guardians that everyone contemplated at some point, but few asked about.

Tortured, agonizing wails, screams like metal grinding against metal, begs and cries for mercy…and yet, Starscream came out of Megatron's quarters without a scratch, no wounds or gashes - just a voice slightly raspier, if it was possible, than usual.

There were none of the tell-tale signs of interfacing, or of some twisted, sadomasochist relationship. There wasn't a bolt, plate, wire or blade out of place on Starscream's person, no signs of having bared ones spark to their Lord Protector.

Then, each night, the screams would start again, echoing all throughout the large, empty halls of the home of the guardians. Each night, the second in command would emerge from Megatron's quarters, calm, dignified, unruffled yet again, and retire without a word to his own chambers.

.

While Megatron stalks to his quarters full of rage and gorged on high-grade energon (that was the third time this month the council had bothered him, the _third_!), his second in command tiptoes somewhat more gracefully behind him. The great doors to the Lord Protector's chambers are slammed open with gigantic claws, the air commander slipping through them before they shut.

The giant, silver mech growls to himself, pacing, incensed, while Starscream smirks by the closed doors, mildy amused by his commander's look of furious anger. Too late, he wipes the smirk off his face plates, and Megatron lunges at his neck.

"Do you think this is funny, _dearest_?" he hisses, teeth so close now he scrapes the flier's chin with them. Starscream is wise enough not to answer. The second is slammed against the wall before being dropped onto his haunches, bowed before his commander.

"Sing."

As Megatron climbs into his berth, the haunting melody is begun once again by Starscream, wailing, sobbing, screeching like a banshee, his harpy screams lulling his lover into a disturbing calm. So lovely, as if Starscream was mimicking their dying victims on the battlefield…the feeling of triumph, reminiscent of animalistic carnage…

The Lord Protector falls slowly into recharge, his beloved by his side. Tonight, as his cries die away into echoes around the domed chambers, Starscream dares to stroke his master's chin, planting a delicate kiss, before the lullaby is finished, and he retires for the night himself.


	4. Entourage

**Entourage**

From Megatron's POV, pre-movie and pre-war. By the way, if anyone wants to leave a prompt for these drabbles for me in the reviews, go ahead and I might just use it if I can think up a story to go along with it :)

* * *

My entourage is considerable, for such a short state visit.

The council think I am paranoid. Perhaps this is a fair judgement, but then they do not come from the hostile, energon-for-energon, mech eat mech society of the guardians. I wouldn't be the Lord Protector if I wasn't constantly watching my back.

But my elite are not standing around me because I am paranoid, or worried that the council will try and dispose of me during my visit (not that they could; these twenty guardians are my elite for a reason).

I like to think of it as a display. My elite stand around me, silent as death, calm and guarded. The terror is barely concealed in the dull blue optics of the council members - perhaps now, I allow myself to think somewhat smugly, they will stop asking me to appear in their slagging towers. They stutter, focusing on my face so they will not have to look into the hollow eyes of my elite, but it doesn't do much to calm the council - I am by no means beautiful. I am a beast in their eyes, barely tamed, baring my fangs, sharpened to perfection.

But then there is Starscream.

My second is just as disconcerting for his beautiful symmetry, handsome face, smooth wings. They flicker their optics between him and I - too scared to look into my ferocious face, too disturbed by the deathly quiet of my darling.

For all his flaws, it's moments like this that I am proudest of him, when he isn't making snide remarks or sarcastic comments, when he is silent and terrifying. _This_ is my second in command. This is a _beauty_, even harder to tame than I. This is a _traitor_ that would dispose of me sooner than all of the council put together, that only _I_ can keep in check. I draw myself to my full height, centimetres away from the ceiling of these pathetic council rooms, and my second stands to my right, poised and elegant.

My entourage is considerable; but it's Starscream and I that are the _real_ threat.


	5. Preen

**Preen**

Thank you to Mr. Nozzers for two lovely prompts! I think I'll be using both of them, they're very fitting ;) Thank you also to everyone that's left a review for "My Little Lover".  
The ending of this drabble is open to interpretation. Speaking of drabbles, I was confused how long a "drabble" is meant to be, exactly, but for the purposes of these ones I'm sticking with "less than 1000 words each".

* * *

They return to their homes at last, exhausted and covered in dried energon, crusty and falling off them in flakes everytime they move. The first port of call is always a stiff-drink, wearily celebrating another battle won, another victory to tally. The Lord Protector is generous this night - he rewards their success with double rations of energon. Some gulp it down, in desperate need of the drunken haze that comes with high-grade. Others store it for later, knowing too well that Megatron is not always so generous.

The pain of bruises and cuts numbed, they retire to their chambers to begin the ritual cleaning and scrubbing following battle. Most prefer to preen themselves alone, suspicious of others taking advantage of their weakened state. The egotistical second in command is no exception, making his way to his room to begin his own meticulous regime, when a familiar beeping invades his comm.-link.

Starscream snaps an irritable reply into his comm.-link as Megatron calls for him to come to his quarters. His Lord doesn't roar at him for such insolence, and instead shrugs it off. The flier is meek now; it is better, Starscream supposes, to keep his Lord in a good mood.

He arrives, and finds his Lord equally drenched in the blood of their enemy, unclean, sitting lazed and casual at his personal throne. Starscream bows. Megatron hums to himself, low and deep, before raising a claw to tip Starscream's face upwards, meeting his eyes. He caresses the plates idly, before leaning forward and roughly scraping the energon off Starscream's cheek with the side of a nail. It flakes off easily.

The ritual is begun.

Starscream returns the favour now, licking the stained claws reached out towards him. Megatron continues to hum, a pleased rumble, before raising his hands to inspect his lover's work.

Satisfied, he draws a table nearer to him, selecting a polish and pulling Starscream onto his lap. Slowly and delicately, each of the flier's armour plates are rubbed and polished, the air commander's optics offline in a small symbol of trust and pleasure. Dull scratches are replaced with his lover's natural, earthy shine, bright red reflections of Megatron's optics glinting over the surface.

Complete, Starscream performs the meticulous regime he had been planning for himself instead on his lover - the most potent polish chosen from the Lord Protector's table, a cloth from some foreign territory, wax Starscream knows too well that only the who's who can afford. The symbol of trust is returned, and Megatron offlines his optics, still humming. It pleases the air commander, knowing that for all his traitorous actions, a twisted trust is still reserved for him and him alone.

He rubs and buffs at the silver armour of his lover, more fervently now, suddenly finding himself nuzzling and licking between the plates of his Lord, finding that the humming has turned into pleased groans. Megatron's fangs are on his neck, sucking and scraping at the crusted energon hidden between wires and delicate circuitry, and he twists and wriggles himself to rid his Lord of every stain and imperfection.

Suddenly, Megatron laughs, rumbling against his Seeker's neck. Starscream replies with a questioning purr, and Megatron whispers hoarsely, rare and raw affection in his voice, "Perhaps this won't be the last time we need to preen ourselves tonight."


	6. Contort

**Contort**

The second drabble from Mr. Nozzers' prompts. This was inspired by the protoforms they have in the movie (the bit where they crash on earth like comets in little balls of transformer XD) - the word "contort" reminded me of that.

* * *

Even with their optics set to night vision it's pitch black.

The two of them have given up trying to see now, waiting instead for the far away sun Cybertron orbits to appear over the horizon and light the bunker they're waiting in. The night is silent, save for the occasional creak of their hinges as they stretch their mechanical limbs. The night is dark, save for the dull, dim glow of their red optics, the only sign that the other is still there.

Starscream shivers involuntarily, rattling his circuits in an attempt to keep them from icing up. The noise startles Megatron, who grunts, folding his colossal arms around himself. In silent agreement they set back to their original mission. Listening. Waiting. Watching. Hours pass.

"Hopeless," murmurs Megatron, deep and irritated, causing Starscream to jump slightly from the sudden noise. "Primus-forsaken bunker...council couldn't choose a strategic hideout if their sparks depended on it…"

The air commander nods slowly, his optics bobbing in the darkness. "We cannot leave until sunrise, my Lord," he muses bitterly, plates chattering. Megatron lets out a sharp outtake of air from his vents, letting his frustration be known to the shadows. The air briefly warms the flier - before the sub-zero temperatures set in again and his armour continues to clatter, louder than before.

"Starscream. You are cold." Megatron's voice is flat and emotionless as he states this, leaning forwards with his red optics inches away from Starscream's. The red light illuminates their faces ever so slightly, and Megatron inspects the frost built up on his second's eyes.

He reaches his arms around Starscream, pulling him closer, muttering a soft command to his second. The flier nods, and begins to transform; twisting, contorting, double jointed limbs folding in on themselves, head bowed down with dim optics, plates pressing tightly against each other. The Lord Protector does the same, his claws flexing, bending backwards to grip the shape shifting being beneath him, as he folds and contorts his own limbs around Starscream. Wires connect themselves into ports, their gears clicking together, until the two are unrecognizable, connected as one being.

The flier shudders, not from cold now, but from the closeness of their spark chambers in their contorted, protected state. He is unsure which plates belong to who, whose wires are connected to what ports, but the warmth of Megatron's gargantuan body seeps into him. _Better?_ Comes an impulse, not spoken, but felt.

_Much_, replies Starscream, snuggling closer into his lover.


	7. Sparkling

**Sparkling**

This prompt came from Lady Wraith1 (I'm still trying to think of something for "sweetly treacherous" that isn't really overdone and cliche for this pairing...it might take a while). I've always been under the impression that Starscream is much younger than Megatron, hence this drabble.

* * *

"Shame," Megatron thought to himself idly as he inspected the debris around him, recognizing slowly that this had once been the workshop of a famous sparkling creator. The name escaped him - the mech was offline now, what did it matter? - not that he cared for sparklings anyway. Their chirruping and clicking irritated the Lord Protector no end, the few times he had been in contact with one. Just a liability, a weakness that needed too much attention for its own good.

Which was why he was not impressed when he saw big, round, glittering optics staring up at him from under the debris.

The guardian roughly plucked the baby up from the wreckage by the back of its neck. The delicate armour snapped off, too frail to take the weight of the sparkling - but it didn't make a sound as it dropped unceremoniously into Megatron's outstretched claw.

"Rather young to be used to pain, aren't you?" he murmured, considering the tiny being in his hold. Its legs were damaged - whether they hadn't been completed by its creator or if they had been crushed by the falling building, he couldn't tell. Two stumps on its back - designed to be a flier, then. Its armour was pale and translucent, shrapnel stuck between tiny wires, and Megatron realized this little sparkling wasn't even supposed to be _online_ for another few cycles at least.

"Better put you out of your misery, little one," he said, not at all disturbed by the thought of killing the tiny being. He shifted the baby into the dead centre of his palm, flexed his claws, crunched them forward, crushing the sparkli-

- until he realized that his palm was empty; the baby gripped onto his knuckles with miniature claws of its own. Megatron chuckled to himself. Perhaps this sparkling wasn't as helpless as he had thought.

From a distance, Blackout called to inform him that Scorponok had dug out the device they were looking for from the wreckage. He deliberated a moment, and then placed the sparkling underneath a chest plate.

.

His lover lies exhausted in recharge from his attentions, while he strokes the wings that he watched grow from tiny little stumps. Without a doubt, his ugly duckling grew up to be a swan; his deadly bird of prey. But whether it was worth all the treachery, power struggles, violent taming, compromising his cruelty to give way to a tiny piece of love, he does not know. Starscream shifts closer in his sleep, unconsciously reaching for Megatron's chest plates, and for a moment, Megatron pretends that his little lover is a baby again.


	8. Blind

**Blind**

A prompt from Giraffe this time. I haven't forgotten about all the other prompts, but I was inspired for this one c:  
I feel that their personalities are a little more G1-ish in this drabble (dammit!!) but it's still set in the 2007 movie-verse.

* * *

"And THIS," roars Megatron, "is for your_ filthy _wandering eyes!"

He digs his fingers deep into Starscream's optic components, shattering the glass lenses and crushing delicate circuitry. The second in command howls a blood curdling scream, slashing violently with his own claws at Megatron's armour.

But the Lord Protector has already moved away, and the flier is left crawling around in the hall, blind. He hisses and spits curses, screams jumbled cybertronian, digging his talons into the floor. He fires his weapons randomly, hoping to hit Megatron, then reaching up to cradle his ruined face and wailing in pain. Megatron watches, satisfied with the punishment he has dealt out. Soon, predictably, Starscream begins to calm, sobbing and gulping for air to cool his systems.

"You've got it all wrong…I wasn't…didn't mean it like that…wasn't ogling that mech…reminded me of you…only love you…possessive glitch…please…need you…you're wrong…" he cries in a random torrent of apologies and excuses. "Hurts…violent bastard…jealous…oh Primus, please…I only love you…slag it, where _are_ you?!"

He is quiet now, except for the whirring of his cooling fans, listening intently for any sign of Megatron. The silver giant obliges, tapping, only once, a claw against his throne and taking delight in the flier's head snapping around frantically, searching for the direction of the noise. Silence.

Starscream begins to wander, arms outstretched to guide him, pausing every few moments to listen. He trips, crashing down onto the floor, and Megatron suppresses cruel laughter for the sake of continuing this game of hide and seek. The air commander heaves himself upwards, energon dripping down his face from his hollow optic cavities.

"Learnt your lesson now, _dear love_?" Megatron sneers.

"I wasn't eyeing up that mech, my Lord," he retorts, calm now, facing downwards in defeat. Then, quieter, "I only have eyes for you."

The silver mech smiles, triumphant.


	9. Formal

**Formal**

xXsomeoneelseXx's prompt this time. Just a note, I'm going to start trying to keep it to one prompt per person because I'm getting quite a few now. You can still offer me more, but keep in mind I might not use all of them (it's hard to think of things for every word!). Also, to some reviewers; these drabbles are rated T for a reason! They're supposed to have slightly disturbing undertones, because honestly, there's no way Starscream and Megatron would realistically have a normal relationship.

Listen to the theme song for "In the mood for love" by Shigeru Umebayashi while reading this one.

* * *

As was to be expected from a society made up of machines whose every move, action and emotion was a complex calculation, the formal rituals of courting and selecting a bondmate were rigid. Processors had to be compatible, creators had to agree to the relationship, sparks inspected for defects, and a million other dreary impediments that Megatron_ just couldn't be bothered with_.

It was so simple and obvious in the little utopia of Cybertron, outside the home of the guardians Megatron commanded - fliers bonded with fliers, council members married those of similar status, processing power was matched with processing power. Yet another formality dictated by the council that the Lord Protector despised.

It started with catching his optics, glinting from across the room. The violent, arousing sight of him across the battlefield, drenched in half processed energon and killing mercilessly. The sound barrier breaking as he streaked across the night sky. Hidden meanings in their formal exchanges during meetings. Their talons brushing together ever so slightly as they passed through the echoing halls.

Unconsciously, Megatron reflected, his processors had been following some of the rules - promoting Starscream higher and higher to match his status, falling in love with a guardian whose alt-mode was also a flier…but still ignoring the all important purpose behind these rituals; compatibility.

Their processors were nothing alike. Their opinions and egos clashed at every twist and turn. Their creators, both long dead, were no longer there to verify their bond. And, as Starscream bared his black, tainted spark to Megatron's own poisoned life force for the very first time, the Lord Protector was amused to find that their sparks were equally defective.


	10. Glass

**Glass**

My own title this time. No more prompts please! I have quite a few to get through now. I'm trying to step back a bit from these drabbles and get some more ideas for them, because I felt a bit like I was writing the same thing over and over again. So on that note, I decided to go post-movie for this drabble rather than pre-movie.

* * *

He howls the retreat out of habit rather than concern for the few Decepticons still online.

He streaks between the buildings, full of malice and ripping the sound barrier for all it's worth, purposefully shattering the weak material these fleshlings think of as "glass". No, those twinkling, weak little shards raining behind him were nothing compared to Cybertronian glass.

He hurls himself into the sky, with nothing on his processor but murder and revenge and bloodshed and…loss. Through the ozone now, through this disgusting planet's flimsy atmosphere, and finally into the sweet bliss, the utter emptiness of space.

He _screams_.

Nobody can hear him, and that's just how he likes it, because his lover is _dead_ and all those years of searching and waiting were for nothing and it's over and Megatron is _gone_. Ironic, he half-laughs, half-wails, that the moment he had waited so long for, the moment he became leader of the Decepticons, was here and he couldn't give a slag, because all he wants is his lover back in his hold. Megatron is dead; long live King Starscream.

_King of nothing_, he screams bitterly into any frequency he can, and begins to cry.

His thoughts drift back to that stupid, flimsy thing that passes as glass on earth, and can't help feeling like he's made of it too. He felt it; of course he felt it, the moment Megatron died, that unbearable wrench in his spark that told him he was alone again, smashing into a million, beautiful, sparkling, itty-bitty pieces…

...but he is not from Earth. He is from Cybertron, and _his_ glass doesn't break so very easily.

Suddenly, there is a fire in his spark where before he felt the cold ice of mourning (it amuses him to wonder if that is the remains of Megatron's spark, from their bond a hundred thousand years ago), and he knows what he has to do.

He _will_ have his revenge.


	11. Comfort

**Comfort**

It's been a while since I did a drabble for this collection! This prompt came from Lone Wolf. I suddenly remembered that prompt out of nowhere and had to write this.

* * *

There were nights where they simply clung to each other like little sparklings.

There were nights where their larger-than-life personalities, gargantuan egos and deadly masks were put away, and they held each other with wide, fearful optics, processors haunted by phantom ghosts of mechs who had died in the war. Mechs _they_ had slaughtered. The large silver mech and the smaller flier would curl up together on the largest berth available, shivering and murmuring nonsense to each other, with a talon or a claw stroking and scraping along the other's back in some motion of comfort.

There were nights where they would let the rules of their Spartan society fall away, where they would show each other the frightened, weak, small and pathetic side of themselves. Starscream would cry sometimes - strange little mewls and wails that echoed in Megatron's audio components for weeks afterwards, sounds that made his spark lurch in sympathy for his little paramour. The leader of the Decepticons, however, refused to allow himself to cry, even in those moments of truth. Instead, he would groan as if in great pain, the flier clinging to him tighter every time he did, pulsing a quiet, soothing frequency.

There were nights where Starscream couldn't function, couldn't recharge, couldn't _live_ without being next to Megatron, nights when he _needed_ to be in that painful, crushing embrace of his large lover. Nights where Megatron couldn't sit still, couldn't wind down, couldn't find that twisted place of peace in his spark without knowing that Starscream was by his side, for all of the treason and threats, for all of the curses and bitter arguments between them. Nights when all they wanted was to forget about the war, forget their sins, forget that anything existed except each other.

There were nights where they depended on each other, though neither would admit it afterwards.


	12. Religion

**Religion**

This drabble is a bit longer than they usually are, sorry! I wanted to make this chapter a bit gothic and macabre in that crazy-creepy way religion can be, so consider yourself warned.

* * *

It was a ritual of theirs, borrowed from the old, primitive societies of Cybertron, long dead.

Neither spoke about it, but on the darkest night of the year - the time when Cybertron was at its furthest from the star it orbited - Starscream would tiptoe towards Megatron's quarters instinctively. It was one of the few holidays in the home of the guardians; a time when the guardians were granted leave for the longest night, the halls dark and empty, most mechs choosing to use the time to recharge.

Like the second in command, Megatron was also awake, sitting on his personal throne patiently with a bowl next to him. A small, flickering bulb served to light up the whole room - energy had to be conserved on this holiday, as tradition dictated. The door creaked open, and through the gloom the Lord Protector made out the shape of his lover creeping in. Tracing the same steps he took every year, Starscream padded softly along the left side of the room, close to the wall, and hunched down on Megatron's right hand side.

The vague sound of distant winds scraping across the guardians' home echoed in the background. Megatron folded his large claws together with a creak of joints, as did Starscream with his own talons. Silently, the two offered prayers up to Primus, Unicron, the All-Spark and all the other forgotten Gods and powers. Tonight, in the endless blackness, they would let superstition get the better of them.

Prayers done, Megatron fell silent again, patient, waiting. Starscream leant down, picking up the bowl that Megatron had placed near his large feet, their ceremony well and truly begun now. Slowly, optics accustomed to the dim light now, the flier took a cube of energon out from a compartment, pouring it into the bowl. He held up the bowl for a moment, allowing Megatron to inspect the contents - then, after sipping it to prove it was not poisoned, put it down again. The second in command pulled a fuel line in his wrist out from underneath his plating, piercing it lightly with the tip of a claw. A few drops of his processed fuel dripped into the bowl, before he pulled his wrist away, sucking on the wire briefly to clog the hole.

Starscream held the bowl up towards Megatron, and the Lord Protector took it carefully. Setting the bowl down on his lap, he likewise pulled a fuel line from the centre of his palm, letting his own blood trickle into the mix. Then the bowl was handed back to his lover. The contents of the bowl were stirred with Starscream's largest claw, one stir for every deity.

Then the bowl was lifted, and Starscream poured the contents into his mouth. Megatron leant down and kneeled in front of the seeker, empty bowl cast aside. Tipping Starscream's chin upward with a nail, he bowed his head down and kissed his lover, pressing their plating around their mouths together. The bloodied energon trickled between their mouths, dancing over each of their wiry tongues as it was passed back and forth, slipping between their teeth, until eventually the mix had seeped down into their throats.

The ritual completed, Starscream began to pull away - until he realized that the outer plating of his mouth was caught on Megatron's own jagged armour. As the silver mech continued to kiss him heatedly, scraping, pulling, sucking, pushing, Starscream wondered with amusement if Megatron had locked their plating together on purpose. His larger lover pushed him backwards violently, crushing the tiny lightbulb that had been their only source of light, setting his weight fully on top of Starscream's in the darkness.

The second ritual of the night was begun.


	13. Secretary

**Secretary**

Something a little more light-hearted this time :) please review!

* * *

Starscream stomped towards Megatron's chambers with a sour expression, hissing and spitting at any guardian unfortunate enough to cross his path. Along with being second in command and head of the air forces, he'd suddenly found himself in the role of communications officer as well. Which, as he found out soon enough, more accurately translated to "Megatron's personal secretary". Primus, he hoped Soundwave would get back from paternity leave soon.

The flier slammed open the doors of the Lord Protector's chambers. "Reports for the end of the cycle that need your attention, Megatron sir," he growled through gritted teeth, saluting haphazardly. The silver mech sat in his chair, looking bored and sullen. Megatron nodded, and Starscream started to read out from the data pad. "Your brother, Optimus Prime, has requested your presence at his creation date celebrations in thirty cycles," he read out, as Megatron rolled his red optics. "The party will take place in Iacon."

"He can go slag himself," Megatron drawled, "birthday parties are for sparklings. I mean what is he, a million and nine thousand?"

"One million, ten thousand, four hundred and sixty-two, sir," Starscream corrected blandly, making a mental note to delegate the task of writing a suitably rude reply to the Prime to an unfortunate subordinate.

"Yes, yes," waved off the silver giant, "is there anything else or are you ready to go get me some energon? I rather feel like getting smashed tonight."

"Second report. Soundwave has asked for your blessing for his new sparkling," the flier went on, shuddering slightly at the mention of Soundwave's new baby monster, "He wishes to inform you the procedure was a success and it has been named 'Frenzy'."

"A fine name, may Primus watch over the little glitch, now get me some energon," Megatron replied loudly, tapping his fingers against his throne irritably.

"I'm your second in command, not your slave! _Third_, Blackout wishes to arrange a meeting with you to discuss obtaining a second symbiote. I believe his exact words were, 'Scorponok needs a widdle fwiend," the seeker shot back, voice rising until he was almost shrieking.

"Oh _Primus_ no!" Megatron shivered. "I'm not having another one of those things running around my army. Now get me some slagging energon!"

The data pad broke with a sickening crunch in Starscream's claws, his optic twitching. That was _it._ Starscream hurled the data pad straight at his lover's head and stalked out the room, screaming abstract curses with rage - the only thing Megatron could make out was a vague shout about cutting short Soundwave's paternity leave. The Lord Protector merely blinked in confusion, rubbing at the dent in his plating.

"Was it something I said?"


	14. Whisper

**Whisper**

Much slashier than the last chapter...

* * *

When Megatron sat in a low-backed chair, Starscream invariably took it as an invitation.

Of course, he would wait until the other guardians had left the room - until any prying audio components were well away from the particular area of the headquarters they happened to be in. It frustrated both of them no end when oblivious mechs would sit contentedly at a console, forcing them to act out their roles of Lord Protector and 'faithful' second in command for hours on end until at _last_ the slagging fool would get out.

But ah, when they did get out. When Starscream would slink over to the back of Megatron's chair, wrapping long, olive arms around the titanic silver shoulders. When Starscream would nuzzle the side of Megatron's head, positioning himself just-so, vocal components neighbouring audios, talons tracing sharp, abstract patterns on the chest plates of the Lord Protector.

Then, he would whisper - sordid, dirty things that would make any Autobot pale and mechs of polite society stall their systems in horror. Whispers worthy of filthy brothels in Kaon, rather than the lip-plates of an elite guardian. Megatron, however, was not put off - and instead, he would smile and lean further in to Starscream, desperate not to miss a single tantalizing word, so softly spoken, almost inaudible even at such close range. It amused the flier no end to exercise his awful imagination, to try and outdo his previous performances, to delve for the most kinky, erotic, taboo sentences and phrases in his twisted processor.

And, invariably, Megatron would take the whispers as an invitation to turn these fantasies into reality.


	15. Kiss

**Kiss**

Not much to say, this chapter is slashy though. As always, please review and let me know what you think :)

* * *

Starscream lies on his back languidly, lazily, his optic shutters half-lidded and focused on the blotches decorating his ceiling. It is difficult for fliers of his build to lie any other way - on his front, his cockpit risks being crushed under his torso's weight. On his side, no room for wings and broad, olive shoulders. It is a luxury, he supposes absently, that he has a berth accommodating enough to fit his wings at all.

He hears the door to his quarters slide open with a strained sigh. Heavy footsteps padding towards his sleeping chamber. His anticipation bubbles higher, and it is all he can do to restrain the childlike chirrup that threatens in his throat - but he doesn't move a gear.

The heavy feet stop at the entrance, and the air commander sees the change in light, the shadow of his gargantuan leader falling across the room before he sees his lover. A low rumble - a chuckle - and silver feet scrape across the metal floor towards him like a predator.

Megatron towers above him now, harsh angles shifting and rough plates moving into something that passes for a smile, and Starscream's smooth mouth components slide easily into a smirk back up at him. The Lord Protector pulls his second's legs apart and, obligingly, gears and hydraulics shuffle themselves into the movement. He crawls up between Starscream's legs, earning a shriek of delight from the smaller Decepticon, claws pulling himself upwards so they are hip to hip, waist to waist, face to face.

Gently, Megatron teases the glass of Starscream's cockpit back into the flier's chest before lowering his full weight down. The flier can feel hot air wriggling out from the Lord Protector's armour, dancing over his own - slowly he flicks his optics up to Megatron's, gazing bright and hungry down at him.

"Ah..."

The sound is soft, almost inaudible, as Starscream parts his lip plates, wiry tongue reaching out for its partner's, almost begging. Then the space between their mouths close, as Megatron leans down, teeth brushing dangerously against the delicate wires. The dominant Decepticon sighs into his second's mouth, perfectly at ease, tongues splitting apart to wind against each other, connecting tiny cables to each other, sparks dancing to and fro.


	16. Ghost

**Ghost**

This one is set during "Reign of Starscream" issue three. You don't have to have read the comic to understand this, just know that Starscream has returned to Trypticon, a Decepticon colony on Cybertron.

I think I could have done more for this one...I'm not satisfied with it.

* * *

His feet pad along the floor, shuffling over the elaborate carvings and symbols. Strange, Starscream thinks to himself - the place is filled with memories. Fleeting touches, stolen glances; ah, there are still the scratches on the walls from some of his rougher sessions with Megatron. The smoke-stained hole in the ceiling from that one sparkbonding when they forgot to remove their weapons...

Somewhere in his processor he wants to laugh at the memory...until he remembers that Megatron is dead.

These are _his_ quarters now, _his_ private halls of residence, and yet the ghost of Megatron is everywhere, the foreboding presence lurking in the shadows and cracks. He imagines the titan appearing out of nowhere to run a claw sensually down his back, as he so often used to do. Starscream shivers, and turns abruptly to go back outside.

But even here, Megatron is still glaring down at him - the harsh carving of that rough, silver face protruding magnificently from the wall, a monument to their leader (_ex-_leader, Starscream is quick to correct himself), or perhaps just Megatron's way of saying "these are my quarters, stay the slag out". Starscream's faceplates contort in disgust, and like his namesake, his spark begins to scream.

He cannot bear to look at the thing.

It takes only one shot to blow the whole thing to pieces. But Starscream knows it will take millions upon millions of years before he can forget the one he loved.


	17. Façade

**Façade**

Another one set during "Reign of Starscream". For those that haven't read it, Starscream leaves earth and retreats to Mars where Thundercracker is waiting for him. This takes place when Starscream and Thundercracker are flying back to Cybertron from Mars.

* * *

"Do you miss him?"

The question is innocent enough. Starscream turns his head towards Thundercracker; the blue-grey seeker is staring at him cautiously, curiously, ready to duck at any moment if Starscream decides that he has overstepped his boundaries. The new Lord shoots him a calculating, suspicious glare.

Of course, he cannot allow Thundercracker to ask such a personal question. He cannot be allowed to show any emotion, to let any knowledge of his past relationship with Megatron get out. He cannot afford to show weakness - to tell Thundercracker that, yes, slaggit, he _does_ miss Megatron, and that yes, he _is_ screaming on the inside, what the pit does he think Starscream is going to feel?

On the other circuit, Thundercracker knew already, Starscream knew that he knew, but neither ever discussed it until now. Thundercracker is a fellow seeker, a past wing-mate, a trusted follower. The new Decepticon leader knows he will never have another chance to let out his grief to another mech, however un-Decepticon that would be.

A minute passes, and Starscream finally replies. "No."

Thundercracker nods understandingly, wise enough not to push the topic, grateful to still be alive. The blue seeker turns back to the controls; behind him, Starscream hunches over and buries his face in his claws.


	18. Baby

**Baby**

A bit more uplifting this time! The last chapters were a bit depressing, so I decided to write something happy too. Sort of a sequel to the earlier drabble "Sparkling".

* * *

Though Soundwave had only said "situation; sparkling designation Starscream" in his usual uncharismatic monotone, the glint on his impassive faceplates told Megatron all he needed to know - "that pit-spawned little glitch has done something awful, _again_". But, Megatron chuckled to himself as he strode towards the makeshift nursery, Soundwave was not really one to talk about poor parenting.

Megatron was greeted with the sight of a very disgruntled looking carer. "Report," he boomed disinterestedly.

"Starscream got out of his pen, stole my ration of energon, threw it back up, then bit me, ran away screaming only to be dragged back here (still screaming), destroyed his pen, almost destroyed two of the other pens along with his, the sparklings in those pens got out, tried to steal his toy, and then...ah...Starscream killed one of them and mauled the other." The carer scratched at one of his plates hesitantly. "He has been put into solitary confinement, my Lord."

The Lord Protector did not even raise an optic ridge. In fact, the battered carer could have sworn Megatron almost smiled. "Take me to him, then." The carer nodded, and hurriedly led the silver mech towards Starscream's cell.

Megatron had to stoop down to fit into the tiny cell - big enough for a sparkling, perhaps, but certainly not for a full grown Transformer. Inside the small cell was nothing but a very sour looking sparkling, faceplates crinkled in annoyance, stubby arms clutching at a little grey toy - a rag-doll vaguely resembling Megatron. It always amazed the Lord Protector to see how much Starscream had grown; as Lord Protector, he had no time to raise the little glitch as his ward or heir, and only seemed to see Starscream when he'd done something bad.

"A sparkling after my own spark, aren't you," he said proudly, getting the small flier's attention. Starscream immediately began to hiss and spit at him, gnashing his tiny fangs in a threat to bite him, but Megatron did not fail to notice the way Starscream instinctively crawled towards him anyway. It did not take long before Starscream had crawled into Megatron's hand to chew on his claws - though unlike when Megatron had found the tiny sparkling, Starscream now took up his whole palm.

With his other hand, Megatron raised a talon to stroke the delicate wings that had begun to grow from little stubs. "I'd almost say that you get in trouble on purpose. Do you want to see me? Is that it?" he murmured softly. The baby in his hand looked up at him, chirring indignantly, optics blinking rapidly. "Mmm...you've figured out that when you get in trouble, I have to come and sort you out, haven't you? Crafty little Starscream!"

The flier hugged his silver hand tightly, digging tiny claws into the metal while clicking and squeaking happily at the praise. Megatron roared with laughter at his little monster, then brought Starscream up close to his face, giving him a light kiss before whispering wickedly,

"Next time...let's see if you can kill that useless carer of yours."


	19. Forgiveness

**Forgiveness**

Readers, I'm looking for one-word prompts again, something unusual that you think you could see fitting with this pairing. Give them to me in a review, but one prompt per reader please! I got too many last time... orz

* * *

Through the tinted glass of the medical chamber, Starscream was glaring straight at Megatron, optics never moving from the silver titan's own sheepish eyes. The Lord Protector had a feeling that Starscream would have been screaming and cursing at him, if it weren't for the fact that Megatron had ripped his vocalizer out in their last "argument".

As it was, an unsteady stream of static was hissing out from Starscream's bruised and scratched mouth plates. A wing had been torn right off, sparking and burning the hands of the medic drone gingerly trying to mend it. In the one hand that had not been crushed out of service by Megatron, Starscream's claws were flexing, wriggling, eager to grab for his lover's silver throat and renew their fight.

With a sigh from his air vents, Megatron stepped inside the repair bay, and Starscream's optics narrowed accusingly. He _knew_, of course, that the fight had been his fault - picking and probing at the flier's insecure ego always led to punches and blows - but he wasn't going to admit it. He opened his mouth in a poor attempt to begin apologizing, but in the end, simply bared his teeth, causing his lover to wiggle and kick angrily against the bonds that restrained him to the medical chamber.

"Shhh," he rumbled in a near-growl. The medic drone was pushed aside with a shove, and Megatron began repairing his broken lover himself...

...With a final click, the casing of Starscream's vocalizer was pushed shut, and Megatron moved his hand away. Starscream tipped his head downwards, rolling his neck from side to side and letting out a few experimental clicks and noises. He nodded, satisfied with the repairs, optics soft and calm after the hours of gentle attention laboured over him.

Nothing was spoken out loud. Nothing ever was. But Megatron's outstretched hand spoke for him. _Forgive me? _

And Starscream's hand, his talons laced together with Megatron's claws, eagerly replied. _Forgive you. _


	20. Unaware

**Unaware**

Thank you for the prompts, everyone. I'll see if I can come up with things for them, but this one from brokenwolf13 inspired me first.

* * *

Megatron stooped through his narrow corridors, large feet feeling twice as heavy as usual and scraping noisily against the carved metal floors. The path twisted and turned, climbing, winding, until the Lord Protector no longer knew exactly how far underground or overground he really was. These were the paths only meant for him - originally, for his safety, a concealed escape route, but now they allowed him to slip between the walls of the base, appear without warning in any room in the home of the Guardian's that he pleased.

He drifted towards his destination almost unconsciously, lost in his melancholy. Things had been going so _well_ lately between him and the volatile air commander, too. And then Starscream just _had_ to challenge his orders, just _had_ to destroy the hard-earned patience Megatron had been savouring, just _had _to...to...

The Lord Protector shook his head irritably and stopped at a wall, checking the markings for a clue to his location. No, he decided, it couldn't have been helped. He couldn't keep excusing Starscream's treachery, just because his spark longed for, _wanted_ the flier every waking minute...not in front of the other Guardians, at least. A heavy claw pushed against a mechanism built into the steel wall, and the metal slid soundlessly aside to let him out into the room.

Starscream's room.

He tiptoed inside, leaving the wall open to allow a swift exit, should he need it. The flier in question was in recharge on his shabby berth, intakes heaving even as he slept, faceplates contorted in pain that Megatron had caused. Instinct told Megatron to reach out and place a soothing hand against his helm; logic told him Starscream's legendary reaction times would have the silver mech on his back, null rays pointed at his face, within seconds of doing so.

So unaware, Megatron mused as he towered over the flier's sleeping form, so achingly naive to Megatron's true feelings for the air commander. So blissfully unknowing of the pain he caused the Lord Protector with every harsh comment, every accusing glare, every sarcastic sneer. And how could he know, when Megatron's replies came with punches and blows? With a long, drawn out sigh, the Lord Protector slipped soundlessly back into the corridors behind the walls, the metal sliding shut.

From the berth, Starscream stared after him.


	21. Admire

**Admire**

A prompt from Kyra Neko-Rei, which I actually had an abandoned drabble written already to do with a word very similar to "admire". So I rewrote it! I hope it's ok. :)

* * *

Like any species, Cybertronians had ideals of beauty or specific traits that were preferred in mates or lovers; symmetry of structure, unscratched armour, visors, highly polished plating...Wings, in particular, were greatly prized - sleek, sensual and sensitive to the touch.

Ever the rebel, Starscream had his _own_ set of ideals.

To him, beauty meant the tired, scratched and weary armour of Megatron's harsh face. The scratches that he catalogues tirelessly, intimately, after Megatron has drifted into recharge with the flier in his arms.

The way that his silver body plating was ever so slightly off centre. The off-balance weight distribution that leaves Starscream's right side feeling more sore than the left the morning after.

The tooth missing on the left, the tooth _just_ a bit bigger than the others on the right. The way Starscream can see where that missing tooth was by the small space of bruised armour left intact, can see where the larger tooth was from the pierced metallic skin after Megatron has bitten him affectionately.

The wings that merge themselves into Megatron's big, bulky frame in his bipedal mode. The game he plays sometimes when he watches his leader, trying to figure out just where those sensitive appendages go when Megatron transformers.

The scarred, chipped plating, the missing back plate that tell stories of a thousand battles. The fact that only Starscream knows every crack and dent by spark, knows just which scratch to caress, just which scar to tease.

The way his optics light up just-so during their fights and brawls. That particular glow of bloody crimson just for him, mixed with a twisted tenderness even when the Decepticon leader is blowing Starscream's delicate audio units out with roars of anger.

_That_ was beauty.


	22. Shiver

**Shiver**

This prompt comes from Soresa. Set during "Reign of Starscream" again.  
I know it sounds annoying, but do please keep reviewing, it's very motivating. That's why I update so fast sometimes XD

* * *

An internal chronometer check reveals that it's only eight nanokliks and five kliks past the third night cycle, Cybertron time, Trypticon time zone, and he doesn't have to get up for cycles yet. Starscream furrows his optic covers, and runs a tendril of code to brush through any alerts or diagnostics that might have woken him.

Nothing - except for a vague, sleepy notice that the temperature has dropped below zero. He lifts himself up just enough from the berth to glare at the temperature unit, only to find that, bizarrely, it still reads plus 15 degrees. The new Decepticon leader shivers, protectively folding circuits, limbs and plates in on himself to conserve heat. Starscream runs his own temperature monitors again, wondering if he's sick with some foul organic whatnot caught from Earth.

Still nothing, so he closes his optic covers - only for his sensors to suddenly start blaring and squawking at him alarmingly. Bolting upright, Starscream blinks, puzzled. No alarms, no alerts. He closes his optics again, and the awful noise is screeching at him still, warning him. One optic open. Gone again.

"Slagging show yourself," he growls to nobody in particular. Predictably, there isn't an answer.

He lies back down, and closes his eyes once more, clearing the noise and alarms away and concentrating on the sensor readings. Neural nets register a finger on his wings, a hand caressing his helm, a claw teasing at his mouth plates. Infra-red detects a vague pulse, in just as vague a location, beating in rhythm with his own spark. Ultra-sound whispers to him, growling softly, too light and gentle to hear or make sense of the words. The effect is soothing, and horrifyingly familiar. Similar to the way _he_ used to...used to...

Starscream onlines his optics, still to find nothing and no-one there. He shivers.


	23. Scare

**Scare**

This prompt comes from LadyKatana4544. I'm so sorry this has taken so long to update, I felt really bad after saying I wrote faster in the last chapter ): Long story short, my brother broke the computer.

* * *

Starscream throws his head back, dental plates widening outwards to amplify the sound of his hollow, shrill laugh. Almost a harsh bark, howling up at the ceiling, the noise echoes around the room and pierces Megatron's audio components like a bullet.

The Lord Protector stands a little away, panting from exertion, air intakes wheezing. Another one of those times where neither of the two can decide if they are fighting or playing, where the blows are just a _little_ too hard to be playful, where Starscream invariably needs medical attention, where the kisses and love-bites are more of a battle than a display of affection, where Megatron is surprised to find afterwards that he is bleeding.

Now the second in command is sprawled on the floor, a little dark pool of energon near where his claw has been snapped off, and he's _laughing_.

There is very little that scares Megatron. But that sound, that manic look in his dearest's optics, that part-accusing, part-adoring expression on Starscream's faceplates directed at him...the way Starscream just cannot seem to control himself, laughing until his optics are leaking with cleaning fluid, clutching at his wounds and shrieking anew with laughter at the sight of them...the way his voice bends and screeches and screams around the giggles and hiccups, the times Megatron cannot quite tell if Starscream is laughing or crying or both, cannot even tell _why_ Starscream is doing so...

There are few things that scare Megatron, but Starscream's laugh is one of them.


	24. Dance

**Dance**

One of my own words now (or did someone suggest it ages ago??). This one is dedicated to Wol Lo for always leaving me lovely reviews! I'm really sorry, I couldn't think of anything for the prompt you gave me before x.x I'd never even heard of the word XD Anyway, this drabble is set kind of before Megatron and Starscream become lovers, back when Starscream isn't second in command.

P.S. I kind of imagined Cybertronian dancing like kabuki dances for this drabble...weird oO

* * *

The annual festival was in full swing, full of laughter, barrels of high-grade and drunken warbling. Not that anyone in the home of the Guardians knew what the festival was even about after all these millennia - but the council declared it a holiday, and they'd take any excuse given to get trashed. Megatron had a faint idea, something to do with the old gods, the old religion from aeons ago, but knew only one of the "rituals" needed to complete the celebrations; the festival dance. Last year, Bonecrusher was chosen by the Lord Protector to dance, out of sadistic amusement. Angry drunk that he was, the festival had ended in an all-out brawl, rather than warm feelings and hangovers.

This year, Megatron had been rather more tactful, instead choosing a longtime favourite of his - Starscream, the air sub-commander, and fifth in command overall. A flier, he had reasoned to his elite, would be far more elegant and graceful than a groundling like Bonecrusher.

The fifth in command kept a brave face as he was escorted to the centre of the celebration hall, amidst cheering and hollers from the rowdy Decepticons, though the twitches in his wings betrayed his nervousness. For the occasion Starscream had been polished and waxed, with white Cybertronian characters painted on all of his armour in cursive script. Even the insides of his armour had been written on, creating the effect of the characters changing and rewriting themselves every time he moved.

Megatron, like the other Guardians, turned his attention to the centre of the room with hungry optics. Soundwave gave the order for the musicians to begin, and the strange, alien movements that passed for "dancing" on Cybertron were begun.

Gears clicked, hydraulics squealed in exact time to the drum beat. A flick of Starscream's hand, talons unfurling, stopping just as abruptly as the music paused. The white characters coating him twisted, gliding around him with each shifting armour plate. Optics open fiercely, lighting up the room, and the Guardians roar along with the festival anthem, Starscream hissing his dental plates open in crescendo.

For his part, Megatron is entranced, and for the moment is glad of the privileges that come with being Lord Protector, having the best view and, best of all, Starscream's elegant dance directed at _him_. Distantly, the cheers and shrieks from his fellow Guardians irritate and grate on his processor, spark flaring in jealousy that he has to share this ritual with any of them.

Too soon, the dance is over, and Starscream sits perfectly still in the middle of the hall, a mess of shifted plates contorted at impossibly arranged angles, white letters glittering with cooling agent. The audience dissipates in search of more high grade, and for what seems like hours, Megatron sits and watches Starscream try to unfold himself. A leg there, an arm here, and finally Starscream's head emerges again, optics blinking and dizzy. With one look at Soundwave, Megatron's orders are given, and the communications officer begins to usher the crowd into the secondary halls with the promise of fresh supplies of energon, leaving the Lord Protector alone with his fifth in command.

"Excellent, Starscream. You did not fail me," he rumbles, silver claws clasped together in content.

"Thank you, sir," the air sub-commander replies meekly, still trying to get those last nuts and bolts back into their natural positions. It is only then that Starscream seems to realize he is alone with Megatron, looking towards the silver mech curiously.

"I am sure you must be exhausted..." Megatron purrs, and reaches behind him for a vintage blend of energon, extending an arm to offer it to the flier. "I was rather hoping you would share this cube with me."

Starscream nods hungrily, optics staring up at the silver titan adoringly, and reaches towards the bottle - until suddenly, it is out of his reach once more.

"But! Not before you do something for me," the tyrant smiles dangerously, "I would like...an encore."

The flier looks blank for a moment, but the faceplates quickly rearrange into a smirk, crawling closer to the supreme commander of the Guardians. "Just for you, sir."

Megatron rumbles, pleased, and grins. "_Just_ for _me_."


	25. Bicker

**Bicker**

It's been a while since I've written one of these drabbles! I don't want to do them too often, otherwise I will start to write the same thing over and over again...but at the same time, I forget what I've already written XD

* * *

In a crescendo of movement, shrieks, and a deafening roar, Megatron raises his silver claws high, poised and ready to stike, light bouncing off the knife edges threateningly.

But the blow never comes, and Starscream, slowly, curious despite himself, moves his olive arms away from his face where they were held up protectively. Cautiously, his optics swivel towards his new lover's faceplates, wary that even a glance would bring down the swiping claw. It takes the new, young Air Commander a minute to understand what he is looking at.

The Lord Protector's faceplates twitch, shark like teeth grinding against each other violently. The claw is still raised, but trembling now - unsure, baffled by his own actions and insticts to reach out and slash and hit and maim and...and...

In one swift movement Starscream finds himself swept into his older lover's arms, his own plates crushing uncomfortably against the scratched and worn silver ones. Confused, but strangely pleased, the flier embraces Megatron, moving ever so slightly to get a better look at that enraged, metallic face.

"Stop _fighting_ me," Megatron hisses down at him, eyes still burning with anger. It is only then that Starscream notices Megatron is shaking with effort not to crush and throttle the Air Commander. The flier considers this a moment, optics full of crimson wonder and oddly adoring.

"Stop starting it, then," Starscream replies childishily and suddenly, with a smug grin plastered over his beige plates - but before the bickering can start again, before Megatron can scream in frustration, before Megatron can grab for Starscream's sensitive neck, Starscream is kissing the larger Decepticon hungrily, turning anger into passion, forming love out of hatred.


	26. Gentle

**Gentle**

One more for today. Probably very out of character...gentle is not the first word that comes to mind when I think Megatron x Starscream...

* * *

Starscream lets out a strangled cry, optics glowing white with excess energy and overheated plates scorching lines into their shared berth, while Megatron slips one titanic, silver arm underneath the flier's arching back. The movement is welcomed - twitching, overloaded mess that he is, Starscream feels his armour support itself against that huge arm instinctively, barely noticing that he is still screaming with bliss.

His optics short circuit, and for a moment, his processor shuts down entirely.

Seconds, maybe minutes, hours for all Starscream cares, and the black begins to ebb away to reveal a frighteningly large and jagged face looking down at his own. There is passion in the flaming eyes of Megatron, but the half-shuttered lids are content, and the nightmarish teeth are hidden behind a smile. Starscream lets out one of those horribly pathetic mewls - always forgetting that his vocalizer is slower to come back online than his optics - and Megatron laughs gently, tracing a claw over the Air Commander's neck.

That silver arm cradling him makes its presence known once again as Megatron scoops Starscream towards him, as gently as one would a sparkling, and this time, the flier does not chastise himself for the strange purrs and clicks tumbling out his vocal unit. One single, massive talon scratches a line saying "mine" along his back plates, and Starscream shudders, knowing full well that those murderous fingers are anything but this gentle in battle.

A kiss as light as a ghost, a lip component brushing his own like a feather, and with a tinge of regret as recharge takes hold, Starscream wishes quietly that these tender moments would last forever.


	27. Jealous

**Jealous**

This came to me just before I fell asleep. I should have gotten up and written it down then... I always seem to look at the messed up parts of this pairing - I can't imagine either of them ever wanting to share, hence the creepiness of this drabble. Sort of related to the drabble titled "Blind" I guess.

* * *

Megatron flinches, optics snapping towards the black hand sliding along his silver arms. The mech (the Lord Protector does not even know his name) grins, leering up at him with a drunken smile and hazy eyes filled with lust. The invitation to his room lingers in the air, stale as century old energon, and Megatron curls his lip plate up in disgust.

"Remove your hand from me." The Lord Protector does not growl, does not raise his voice, but in his words lie a danger cold as ice.

"Come on..." slurs the mech, flecks of blue glinting in his dark armour as he twists, "you know you want to...my room is just down the corridor...could spend the night together, real nice..."

"I must inform you I am already intended for someone else. Remove your hand from me," Megatron repeats coldly, expression darkening.

The mech snorts through his vents. "Pff, they'll never know...s'not like they're in the room."

Before the mech has time to process what's happened, his hands are falling from Megatron's arm, energon and oil gushing out from the end of his wrists. Next to him, even cooler than Megatron could ever hope to sound, comes a scratched voice. "Aren't they?"

With one point-blank blast from Starscream's null ray, the lecherous mech's head is a messy, bloody smear on the room. The air commander's expression remains blank and neutral, unreadable to anyone except Megatron. Behind him, the Lord Protector bares his teeth in a jack-o-lantern grin, admiring the energon stains splattered on Starscream's polished armour.

"You're cute when you're jealous," he growls playfully, before pulling Starscream into a possessive kiss.


	28. Vampire

**Vampire**

This chapter is for my reviewers. You inspire me just as much as this pairing does XD I know these shorts can be a little creepy, but...that's my preferred writing style, I'm afraid. Borrowing a character from G1 again for this chapter.

* * *

Again, Hook is woken up to the sound of a message received, marked urgent priority by Megatron himself. He grumbles to himself, slipping soundlessly out of the shared quarters of his gestalt brothers and into the medical area. A few moments of sterilizing instruments with his gamma gun, and as expected, Starscream arrives at the entrance.

The Air Commander's usual haughty, schooled composure is gone. Late into the night - or too early in the morning for Hook's liking - he slouches ever so slightly, wings angled languidly, a dazed and delirious expression on his face plates. And of course, the most notable difference of all: the shredded armour of his shoulders, the pierced wires of his neck, the grazed surface of his torso, the only evidence ever to be seen that Megatron has chosen Starscream as his paramour.

Hook quails at the thought of it, and hurries to lead Starscream to the operating berth to get rid of the awful love bites.

-

He snaps his optics open at the feeling of a weight on his wing, finding that he has been disarmed and, unless he wants his wing ripped off, is trapped underneath the weight.

"Did I wake you?" rasps the vampire's voice, mouth tantalizingly close to his audio circuits. The victim purrs in reply, relaxing in the familiar presence of his lover. Starscream leans back into Megatron, and the monster curls his arm around the smaller torso lovingly. The Air Commander can feel Megatron's vents teasing his back, breath dancing over the wires of his neck.

"Hook's going to kill us one of these days," Starscream chuckles, shuddering at the sensation of Megatron's teeth ghosting over his metallic shoulders.

"Hook should have realized he was working for the mech with the most teeth on Cybertron," Megatron retorts, and Starscream cackles softly. "And besides...you _do_ so love it when I bite you." Before the flier can process this last sentence, the vampire's fangs have sunk deep into his neck.

Starscream hisses in satisfaction.


	29. Edge

**Edge**

It's nearly Christmas! Maybe I should do a Christmas special drabble XD Anyway, this one is set just before the war between the Autobots and Decepticons, I guess.

* * *

His wings are on one side of the room, and Starscream is on the other. This is the first thing Megatron notices when he walks into the repair bay, and his optics narrow dangerously. Skywarp and Thundercracker aren't looking much better - the blue one (the Lord Protector can never remember which one is which) is missing his legs.

The second thing Megatron notices is the quiet burst of static coming from Starscream's broken throat, weary optics struggling to focus on his larger frame. Ignoring the shrieks coming from Skywarp (or is it Thundercracker?) as Hook welds a finger back together, the Decepticon commander strides purposefully over to Starscream. The flier blinks up at him, some semblance of a smile twisting over his charred faceplates, grateful to see his lover again. Megatron takes the air commander's shaking claw in his own with a grimace as he inspects the damaged body lying in front of him.

Soundwave is at a respectful distance away, and the third thing Megatron notices are the reports droning out of the mech's vocalizer. Autobots, strike team, shooting aerial patrols. His brother, the Prime, had promised a ceasefire despite the building tension between the factions. Megatron grips Starscream's hand tighter, trailing his other talons over Starscream's dented cranial plates soothingly, while his own thoughts are anything but calm.

The flier slips into a hazy, painful recharge as the cold claws ease consciousness away. Before, war seemed avoidable, distant. Now his bonded is in pieces in front of him - the repairs will take vorns.

"Soundwave," he rumbles slowly, careful not to wake his lover, "declare war on the Autobots."


	30. Brat

**Brat**

A sequel to the chapters "Sparkling" and "Baby". I know some of you thought they were a bit creepy, so I'm warning you this one is dark too ;)

* * *

He's chained up, in a room far too small, having long outgrown the sparkling quarters he still lives in, even as a runt. It's been a century since the Lord Protector has seen his little ward, and the youngling looks up at him, optics dark. The room is covered in energon stains - not Starscream's, but his first adult victim's.

"I see you took my words to spark, then," Megatron comments, observing the murdered carer lying outside Starscream's cell, sticky energon still leaking from the Guardian's neck. Soundwave is directing various drones to clean the mess, visor a queasy orange tint.

"You said you'd come see me," Starscream replies, an edge of despair in his young, scratchy vocaliser. "It's been ages...I thought maybe you were waiting for me to do like you said...'kill my useless carer' you said..."

The Lord Protector chuckles, baring his fangs in a grin. "I've been busy, dear youngling. I am the Lord Protector - I have wars to lead, battles to fight. The Quintessons threatened Cybertron again, and I had to lead the retaliation."

Starscream says nothing, red, haunted optics glowing in the darkness. Megatron reaches a titanic arm in, pulling the youngling out by the chains he is bound up in. The seeker's wings are no longer just little stumps - fully formed, scraping against the walls of his pen. Where once the Lord Protector could hold him in one hand, it now takes an arm to hold the youngling to his chest plates. Megatron drags a claw along delicate wings, as if inspecting his property.

"My poor Starscream," he murmurs, peeling off the chains as the flier nuzzles his face under the silver plates. "My clever Starscream...you knew just the right fuel line to sever..."

"Said you'd come see me," Starscream snarls again quietly, biting at the silver plates nearest his mouth gently.

"And I will," Megatron rumbles soothingly, leaning his mouth down to nip back at the youngling lightly. "You've grown so big, my dearest brat. And what a fine display of cunning, killing a Guardian three times the size of you! I think you're ready to begin your training as a warrior."

"A warrior?" mumbles the youngling from underneath Megatron's chest plates.

"Yes...you will come to me, once a megacycle, and I will teach you," the Lord Protector explains, more to himself than Starscream, who he can feel growing tired and heavy in his arms against the warmth of his spark chamber. "The rest of the time, you will be trained by a distant relative of yours." Starscream doesn't reply. The Lord Protector is silent a moment - and as expected, the slow, soft whirring of tiny, sleeping vents can _just_ be heard. He turns to Soundwave.

"My lord?" comes the monotone of the communications officer.

"Send for Thundercracker," Megatron commands. "He will take care of Starscream from now on."


	31. Third

**Third**

The title of this chapter is meant in the sense of "third wheel", "third person" or "three's a crowd". It's not the most romantic of chapters, but I thought I should update for Valentine's Day tomorrow XD

* * *

However distant the connection, they were relatives, and as such Thundercracker had a sixth sense regarding his younger 'cousin', Starscream. He'd watched with a faint sense of amusement as the vicious little seeker climbed the ranks of the Guardians, landing himself the position of Second in Command in a matter of centuries.

Now, said seeker was having a screaming match with the Lord Protector in an old dialect of Cybertronian named High Kaon. The dead, archaic language had of course been chosen because nobody spoke it anymore - except Thundercracker (and Soundwave, he suspected). The two highest ranking Guardians had no idea that the seeker was fluent and currently eavesdropping on them (it took all his strength to resist correcting their appalling grammar; if they were going to speak a dead tongue, they may as well not butcher it).

The argument was, as Thundercracker guessed, yet another lover's spat, though about what it was becoming harder and harder to tell as Starscream's screeches rose higher and higher in pitch. The navy seeker watched his olive 'cousin' fondly. It took bolts to stand up to Megatron, he'd give Starscream that much - the silver ex-gladiator's claws were twitching and clenching alternatively as if they were already around Starscream's throat.

No matter how many punches and blows were exchanged, in the flier's view, Starscream and Megatron were perfect for each other. For one thing, it left Megatron distracted enough that he no longer took out his anger on some of the lesser guardians. Thundercracker was convinced that no other mech would put up with Starscream anyway - nobody except Megatron could be quite so vicious and sneaky. Secretly, the seeker suspected that the two enjoyed these arguments and took great pleasure in beating the slag out of each other.

"Starscream," he interrupted suddenly, the name sounding odd in the lilt of High Kaon. Megatron and his Second twisted their heads towards Thundercracker in surprise. The navy seeker continued, ancient grammar flawless. "Megatron is right today. You started it. Cut it out."

Their jaws dropped in horror as Thundercracker turned on his heel and walked out the room.

Yes, he smiled to himself, it was immensely satisfying being the only one to know about Starscream and Megatron's relationship.


	32. Relax

**Relax**

Reelaax, don't do it, la la la...XD Sorry.

* * *

Slow footsteps stopped just behind Megatron's throne. Tension hung around the room like worn-out decorations, left long after the Festival of Primus was over; a few mechs who had been working at various stations dared to turn around to look at the Decepticon in the shadow of Megatron. The tyrant, for his part, said nothing - his claws were digging into his throne, scraping, while he muttered to himself, optics burning in rage, some plan violently turning over in his processor.

Delicate, measured, the smaller talons were raised, coming to rest on Megatron's helm, light as a feather.

Megatron flinched, deadly hands half-raised to grab whoever was touching him by the throat and hurl them across the room. Then, suddenly, he seemed to recognize the familiar energy signature rippling off the olive claws.

The tyrant sunk back into his throne, snarling resignedly. Sharp fingers danced over the silver plating of his head, skimming the surface, then gradually applying pressure. Rubbing small circles on each side of the silver titan's helm, Megatron soon closed his optics, allowing himself to enjoy the sensations.

Hands dipped down, massaging the metal jaws of the monstrous Decepticon. Palms flat on either side, a quick movement clicked his lower jaw back into its correct position. Megatron rumbled, half growl, half purr, while the mechs stationed in the command room looked on in awe. Fingertips tickled at his mouth, and the tyrant gave his permission, opening his mouth to allow the fingers in to rub at his teeth and inner denta-plating. The Decepticon commander bit down lightly - a reminder, of course, that even when allowing this behaviour, he was still the one in charge. The fingers withdrew from his mouth, cupping his chin, smoothing downwards to the wires in his neck.

Then, nothing, save the air rushing to fill the space where the hands had been. The mech turned on his heel, heading towards the door of the command centre.

"Starscream," Megatron said simply, in his usual deep rasp. The flier looked over his shoulder, smirking, knowing that it was the closest he would get to a thank you.


	33. Melt

**Melt**

I'm not convinced with this chapter, but, oh well. Here it is, for your enjoyment. :)

* * *

It's dreadfully cold.

His optics have been frozen open for…how long now? Hundreds of years? Thousands? A million? He sees, through the frost-coated glass, whenever he musters the little energy he has to bring himself to consciousness. The organisms mill around him, prodding him, poking, dissecting wires and circuits.

He _hates_ them. For mere moments, he had hoped they would rescue him. At least in the arctic he had been alone. He lets himself fall out of consciousness once more - centuries of cryogenic-stasis have taught him how to sleep with his eyes open.

He dreams of warmth. He dreams of his lover, home on Cybertron, curled up in his arms, frame burning with the excess energy of overload. He dreams of wings warming his fingertips. He dreams of temperature sensors reporting something other than minus 100 degrees. He dreams of being able to register his temperature sensors at all.

Then, he feels it.

It's distant and faint, but it wakes him. A stirring in his spark. A reply from his lover. A sudden fire in his spark, hot and wonderful, making his spark chamber creak and groan from the abrupt expansion in temperature. The humans rush around in a frenzied panic, with no scientific explanation at hand for the rising mercury in their thermometers. All too soon they are aiming their coolants at his chest, and he drifts back into painful, icy recharge.

_It burns again_, rushing through his spark, fighting back like an electric shock. The feeling returns, like a pulse, warmer, brighter. Nearer. He'd laugh if he could feel his vocal unit. He knows this feeling well.

Starscream is coming for him.


	34. Conquest

**Conquest**

Hmm. I can't decide if I like the new Prequel comics that they've been putting out for "Revenge of the Fallen" or not.  
But, it gives me some new inspiration to work from :D **SPOILERS **for those who haven't read the comics - waaay before the first movie, the Fallen revives Megatron and turns him evil, basically, and convinces him to take over Cybertron.

A bit longer than usual, I hope you don't mind. I'd appreciate feedback on this drabble, I'm not sure I like it myself XD

* * *

_It's yours_, the master whispers. _Take it. Take whatever you want. Cybertron, the galaxy, the whole universe. _

Megatron's spark skips a beat as the words sink in. Whatever he wants? Sensing the direction the Lord Protector's thoughts are moving in, the voice continues, soothing and tempting. _Even him...take him, as your first conquest._

The silver titan shudders, frame beginning to heat at the mere prospect. And how could the Air Commander refuse him? _Megatron_, the Protector of Cybertron, with the power to execute him, strip him of his title, blackmail him in _so_ many delicious ways.

Claws shaking ever so slightly, he activates the communication channel, and Starscream's groggy, holographic head appears from his wrist.

"My lord, is something wrong? The night cycle is not yet over," the flier replies, formal and distant in a poor attempt at hiding his tiredness.

"Come to my quarters instantly," Megatron orders, neither commanding nor gentle in his tone. Starscream mumbles some surprised affirmation in reply before signing off.

The wait is not long - Megatron keeps his elite nearby - but by the time Starscream is rapping on the door the Protector is twitching in anticipation, hidden in the dark of his chambers.

"Enter," he rumbles, optics glowing excitedly. The seeker enters and kneels.

"Your orders, my lord?" he questions, somewhat more awake now. The reply is unexpected - suddenly Megatron is kneeling in front of him also, claws gripping and scratching randomly at the Air Commander's armour, circling and altogether threatening. "M-Megatron?!"

The Protector pushes himself on top of Starscream, jaws nipping and tugging in something of a kiss. "I'm going to take this planet, Starscream," he rasps into the flier's audial components. "The All-Spark...this planet, it's all _mine_." Silver teeth clamp down against Starscream's neck, as the predator pins its prey to the ground - the flier, for his part, is too surprised to do anything.

"My...lord," he ventures, "I don't...I don't understand."

Megatron laughs, hands racing desperately over the frame beneath him. "I'm taking what I want. I'm taking what's rightfully mine. And _that_," he gasps, momentarily releasing Starscream's neck from his jaws to meet wide, staring optics, "includes _you_."

There is a pause, while Megatron's vents struggle to cool, and Starscream runs a scanner over his superior critically.

"You're insane," the seeker answers blankly, not at all phased. He traces a stray plate on Megatron's armour with the tip of a digit.

"That may be," purrs Megatron, dipping back to the flier's neck and biting down. Hard. "But _you_ aren't at liberty to say that to me, lowly little Air Commander." Starscream hisses in not-quite protest, pawing at Megatron with his own talons. "Ah, but we're going to change that, aren't we? _You" - _he stabs at the seeker's canopy with a finger for emphasis - "will be my first conquest. My new mate...my second in command!"

Starscream frowns irritably. "Tch."

And before he can utter a sound, Megatron finds himself suddenly on his back, Starscream sitting atop him triumphantly, snaking his hands up the Lord Protector's body sensually.

"Really, my lord," Starscream scolds, a wicked glint in his optics as he licks his lip components. "You could have just asked."


	35. Catch

**Catch**

Aurora Bluewolf suggested this prompt. I hope s/he likes it! Another sequel chapter for the earlier ones "Sparkling", "Baby" and "Brat", where Starscream is a child. By the way, do feel free to suggest prompts if you want, but don't get your hopes up because I only use ones which genuinely give me ideas. It's getting harder to think of new drabbles after 35 chapters! XD

* * *

"Catch!"

Megatron turns reflexively, raising a large claw to effortlessly catch the small lump. He looks down at the bundle of wires and circuits in his hand, frowning irritably, before looking up at whoever has dared to throw it at him.

"Starscream," he acknowledges the youngling, frown deepening. "Your lesson with me isn't scheduled for another four decacycles."

"So?" the youngling pouts as he fearlessly wanders towards the Lord Protector, though he barely comes up to Megatron's knee. "Thundercracker is on a mission. I was bored, so…I made that for you."

The titan looks down at the…_thing_ in his hand again, then lifts Starscream by the scruff-bar to rest in the crook of his other arm. "Yes, well," he rumbles, confusion flickering across his faceplates, as he continues to make his way to his quarters. The youngling chirps happily in his hold. "What…ah…is it?"

"It's a bomb!" Starscream whispers gleefully. Megatron quickly holds the thing away from himself, but the youngling protests. "No don't throw it yet! It won't detonate until I say so!"

"Are you certain…?" Megatron asks, not entirely convinced with the little flier's engineering skills. Starscream nods proudly, clambering up silver chest plates to sit on Megatron's shoulder. "Well…perhaps we should test it, hm?"

"Yeah!" the youngling whoops, throwing his little fists up and nearly toppling off his perch. The Lord Protector smiles indulgently, subconsciously raising a claw to keep the sparkling balanced. Nearing his quarters, he places the bomb a good distance in front of the door, before hurrying away, Starscream still clinging to his helm like a parasite. They crouch together behind the entrance of his chambers, peeking out behind the door at the bomb, and for a moment Megatron feels just as excited as his tiny companion.

"Now!" Megatron commands with a grin, scooping the youngling closer protectively, and Starscream cackles as he detonates it.

When they both finally come to, the two find themselves staring up at Ratchet's annoyed faceplates in the infirmary.


	36. Sleep

**Sleep**

It's been really hard trying to write one of these drabbles recently, because I'm waiting for "Revenge of the Fallen". I'm sure it will give me some new inspiration! Though I have a feeling Starscream is going to go the same way he did in TF:A...hmm. We'll see!  
I'm not 100% happy with this drabble. It's a bit of a...hm...slice of life? I don't know, let me know what you think ^^;

* * *

Starscream wakes some time in the night, optic shutters blinking wearily. The room is quiet and dark, save for a vague glow from the city sky outside leaking through small, thin windows. The scarce light twists, coming to rest on silver and tan plating.

The flier shifts, trying to settle back into recharge - only to find he cannot move. Megatron's legs pin his own down in a tangle of circuitry, while the Lord Protector's arms have him in a crushing embrace. His face is only millimetres away from the silver mech's chest, and he can hear the spark pulsing beneath it clearly.

The Air Commander frowns, observing the specks of light jumping over Megatron's plating as the tyrant shifts minutely in his sleep, rumbling. It had become something of a habit for the flier to curl up against his lover on the rare occasions they could recharge together. But without fail, Starscream would fall into recharge first, Megatron would wake first, and the flier would find himself quite alone on the berth in the morning. To discover that the tyrant actually returns his embrace - consciously or not, the seeker cannot tell - is new indeed.

He smiles to himself as the silver tyrant lets out a single snore, muttering something in his sleep. Still deep in recharge, Megatron pulls Starscream closer, burying the flier's face against his chest plates. He rests his sharp chin against the Air Commander's helm.

Carefully and quietly, Starscream untangles his free arm from the Lord Protector's hold. He replaces it just so, into a position where one movement from the tyrant would crush his wrist. Starscream relaxes plating, letting wires free to tangle and catch in jagged, silver plating. He wiggles his trapped arm, making sure it is stuck firm. Then he gives his limbs an experimental tug, before nodding smugly to himself in satisfaction, and offlining his optics to go back into recharge.

Tangled mess that they now are, Megatron will have no choice but to wake with Starscream the next morning.


	37. Sulk

**Sulk**

SPOILERS FOR REVENGE OF THE FALLEN! Well...nothing explicitly spoilerish really, but it takes place immediately after the movie. As I thought, I'm totally inspired now! Even though it has turned more than a few of these drabbles into AU's now...oh well. They're mostly separate from each other anyway.

Thank you to everyone who's offered me prompts! If they inspire me, I'll use them, but for the moment I'll be doing some ROTF drabbles of my own.

* * *

Megatron stormed through the Nemesis, clawing and ripping at walls and wires as he went, while Starscream followed close behind. The flier flinched each time the tyrant's claws dug into the ship - all too aware that he could be at the receiving end of those talons in the blink of an eye. He wrung his hands together nervously, wings sloping downwards. The Decepticon commander continued to mutter to himself through the winding corridors, deep into parts of the ship the seeker didn't even recognize.

Eventually, the silver mech smashed a fist into a panel on the side of a wall. Starscream yelped, jumping back and raising his hands defensively…but the blow never came. He peeked an optic open to find a large door had appeared in the wall, and Megatron was walking into it. He hurried to follow, feet scratching noisily at the floor. Megatron threw himself petulantly into a large chair.

"…Master?" ventured Starscream cautiously, staying close to the door.

The Decepticon Commander's ruby optics snapped upwards, as if he had only just remembered Starscream was there. He growled low in his throat, then raised a claw, pointing at his lap. "Here. NOW," he bellowed.

Instantly, Starscream scrambled towards Megatron and, graceful despite his nerves, placed himself on the tyrant's lap. The silver mech wrapped his long arms around the air commander's waist, digging his claws under plating, trapping his prey. Then, he pushed his face against Starscream, huffing a burst of air through his vents.

He was silent for a while. Starscream shifted uncomfortably, furrowing his optic ridges. Perhaps he wasn't going to be beaten to slag after all. "Master?" he ventured again. The only reply was another puff of air. He raised a digit, tracing the back of Megatron's helm lightly, becoming a bit more daring. "Master, are you…perhaps…sulking?"

"I DON'T SULK!" bellowed Megatron, face still burrowed in Starscream's plating.

The flier smiled to himself, raising his claws to caress the moody tyrant. His spark stirred, remembering this particular routine of theirs from millions of years ago, before war had ravaged Cybertron. "No…of course you don't," he cooed, raspy voice soft and comforting, while the tyrant just pulled Starscream closer with a "hrmph".

It was good to be in Megatron's lap again.


	38. Lost

**Lost**

I kind of wanted to call this chapter "lost and found", but I do like my one word format for chapter titles ;)  
Again, set AFTER REVENGE OF THE FALLEN!!! So, spoilery again.

* * *

The Decepticon Commander lay quietly in his berth, his lover still recharging soundly next to him. Starscream had tried to soothe him for long hours, never seeming to grow tired or impatient with Megatron's violent outbursts. Even when the tyrant had shouted and yelled at him, for once, Starscream hadn't yelled back, and at last, Megatron had eventually fallen asleep.

The tyrant looked down at his sleeping lover wistfully, dragging a claw along tattooed wings. The air commander shivered in his sleep.

Megatron spooned against Starscream soundlessly, grateful for the warmth radiating off the flier. For the first time, he felt utterly lost. Millions of years serving the Fallen one. Millions of years, fighting, and now, that purpose was gone. Now he was in complete control of the Decepticons - but what to do with them? What was there possibly left to fight for? The All-Spark was still lost, their home world was still in trouble, still needed to be rescued…was that his purpose?

He felt Starscream shift next to him, stirring him out of his thoughts. He looked down at his lover, and realized, very suddenly, that he couldn't feel Starscream's presence in his spark.

Cold panic washed over the Decepticon leader. If there was one thing he always had, it was his bond with Starscream - but now his spark was deathly quiet. Alone. Had it been severed when he'd died? He hadn't even noticed, too lost in the madness of the war. He wondered (_almost_ guiltily) if it had hurt for Starscream when the bond was cut…if the flier had mourned for him. If Starscream had felt as lost as he did at this moment. Megatron looked down at the recharging flier, suddenly appreciative that Starscream had tried to take control and keep the Decepticons from falling apart in the face of a bondmate's death.

"Starscream…wake up," he whispered, nudging the flier.

The Air Commander stirred, optic covers blinking sleepily. "…Mmm? What is it?" yawned Starscream. "You want me to hold you again?"

"No," Megatron shook his head with a chuckle, planting a kiss on the side of the flier's face before rumbling, "let's bond again."

Starscream's optic shutters snapped open, alert and awake, and just like the first time Megatron had proposed, his face lit up with joy. "Right now?" he purred, twisting to look up at the tyrant with a grin.

Wasting no time, the Decepticon commander dragged a finger down Starscream's chest, prying the plating open. "_Right now_."


	39. Stillborn

**Stillborn**

Set DURING REVENGE OF THE FALLEN! Beware of spoilers!

* * *

Starscream scrutinizes the gestation pod on the wall while the Fallen murmurs to himself across the deck, Megatron kneeling by his side. The tiny Cybertronian form inside the pod is small, weak and pathetic. He drags a finger along the glass, optics narrowing - this hatchling should have been born years ago, at twice the size that it has reached.

He realizes, without surprise, that it's dead.

As Megatron continues to decipher the Fallen one's cryptic messages, the Air Commander reaches a claw inside, the protective gloop around the stillborn seeping into his circuits. He pulls it out delicately, placing it in the palm of his hand as the liquid dribbles out of the now broken pod.

The sparkling is tiny - about the same size he was when Megatron found him, with a peaceful half-formed face and miniature shuttered optics. He holds it closer, inspecting small, stubby wings, see-through circuits and pale plating. The flier's stony spark lurches, and he covers the baby Cybertronian in his palm with his other hand. After a while, Starscream peeks into his closed hands, and, finding the baby still unmoving, uncovers it to stroke it lovingly.

The Decepticon Commander looks up from his place by the Fallen to see his lover cradling the hatchling, and he frowns, getting up to stand over Starscream.

"It's dead," the flier comments offhandedly, as if it doesn't really matter. Starscream prods its stumpy wings again, then holds it up for Megatron to see. "It would have been one of my fliers. Look - wings."

"No," rumbles the tyrant distantly, taking the sparkling into his titanic claws with far less delicacy. "Not yours."

Starscream tilts his head to the side, raising an optic ridge curiously. Megatron lays the hatchling down into a clean pod, ready for recycling. He brushes his claws along Starscream's wings, engine murmuring thoughtfully. Then he tilts the flier's chin upwards, and says, voice filled with promise,

"When _you_ have a sparkling, it will be mine, too."


	40. Herald

**Herald**

Again, this one is set during Revenge of the Fallen. I'm starting to wonder if these drabbles really do contain any spoilers...I'm guessing people have seen the trailers and read other spoilers. Oh well, I'd love to hear your thoughts, as always.

I'm surprised I've made it to 40 chapters! Thank you to everyone who has left me reviews, it's so encouraging :D

* * *

"He's alive."

From the floor, Starscream looked up in surprise. The Fallen one had been quiet for a long time - now, out of nowhere, he was staring at the Air Commander intensely. With one last tweak to the circuit he had been repairing, the flier set down his tools and bowed respectfully.

"Who is alive, master?" he inquired softly.

The Fallen chuckled, peering down at the flier condescendingly. "Your _other_ master, little Seeker."

Starscream froze, spark skipping a pulse. Surely...he couldn't mean...? He looked up, meeting the elder's optics. "Megatron? _Megatron_ is alive?"

The old Cybertronian just laughed again, hollow and biting. He looked away thoughtfully, ignoring the flier's question. "Funny," he murmured to himself, "he couldn't even work up the courage to ask for a bond before _I_ came along. It's coming together so nicely...and all I had to do was push a Seeker in his direction..."

How _dare_ the Fallen speak that way about him - as if he were a mere pawn! How dare the Fallen speak that way about _Megatron_, too, as if he was nothing without the Fallen's help! Starscream bristled, shuffling backwards irritably to continue working on his repairs - only to realize that, if Megatron truly was coming, those same circuits would be broken again soon enough. But if he _was_ alive...why couldn't he feel it? They'd been bonded for millions of years. He spat at the floor sulkily.

"You'd do well to remember that you belong to him," the Fallen said absently, and Starscream snapped his head upwards, fearful that the elder had read his thoughts. "He'll come to..._reclaim_ his belongings soon enough."

The flier shuddered, walking slowly away from the creepy mech towards the gaping hole in the ship's hull where Megatron would surely arrive. The Decepticon Commander would _not_ be pleased that Starscream left him to be buried at sea...or that he'd assumed command in his absence, instead of trying to revive him. He sighed, settling himself down to wait for his former lover's return, and the beating that would surely come with it.

Best to be there to get the grovelling over with, Starscream supposed with a pout.


	41. Reunion

**Reunion**

Spoilers for ROTF, etc.

* * *

"_Starscream, I'm home_," he snarls, and instantly the flier appears, grovelling and sputtering out a million excuses.

It fills Megatron with great pleasure that his arrival has produced an appropriate amount of fear in the Seeker - such a nice change to the backstabbing glances he's become used to. Yet still the Air Commander wanders closer and closer to him with each apology, like a moth to a flame.

Megatron marches forward rather more aggressively. He tilts Starscream's chin upwards roughly, dragging the flier's face nearer to his own. So lovely to see panic in the Air Commander's darting optics. He summons the most threatening voice he can muster, delighting when Starscream begins to tremble against him. He'd kiss him, if he wasn't so slagged off with the little glitch.

Ah, but Megatron mustn't let him think he's gotten away with it.

In one movement, Starscream is pinned up against the wall with Megatron's new arm, wing tips piercing gestation pods. Megatron squeezes silver fingers around the delicate throat, grinning maniacally despite himself. As Starscream struggles and scratches against the tyrant's crushing hold, incoherently babbling a warning about the pods breaking behind him, Megatron takes the time to observe his lover. The tattoos are new, and not entirely awful to look at. He'll have to spend some time getting to know those additions. The neck cables trembling against his iron grip begin to tense, and Megatron abruptly lets go, Starscream falling onto his haunches unceremoniously.

Starscream lowers his gaze to the floor submissively, and the tyrant is tempted to think he's learnt his lesson...but years of experience with the flighty mech tell him otherwise.

Megatron almost sighs - he'd like to spend a few long hours lovingly beating dents into Starscream, tracing black markings with sharp claws - but there are more important things at hand. He marches away from the Air Commander in search of his master, the Fallen one. Starscream can wait, Megatron thinks haughtily. _He_ had to wait two years to be revived; the flier can wait a few days for his attention.

It's only fair.


	42. Tattoo

**Tattoo**

Post-ROTF this time. Not really spoilerish at all, to be honest. I wanted to do something a bit more playful.

* * *

"Hold still!" Megatron repeated for the seventh time.

If there was one thing the warlord hated, it was repeating himself - but this time, he could not quite bring himself to be angry at Starscream. Not when the flier was wriggling and squirming so delightfully underneath him, laughing and giggling like a tiny sparkling. He grinned down at his lover, baring all of his sharp teeth in a smile that only Starscream could love.

"You try holding st-still!" choked out the Air Commander between bursts of laughter. "It t-tickles! I di- _ah!_ Be gentle! - didn't do that area for a r-reason!"

The Decepticon Commander shook his head in mock exasperation, rolling his optics. He continued to scratch and scrape at the base of Starscream's wings, leaning down heavily to stop the flier from moving about too much. The Seeker shrieked with laughter, scrabbling at the berth with his own claws.

"I'm almost finished, you hatchling," Megatron accused affectionately, pausing to bite the flier's shoulder. Starscream quieted obligingly, giggling softly. The silver mech dug his claw in once more, and the second in command had to stuff his hands in his mouth to stop from howling merrily.

Soon, Megatron raised himself upwards, admiring his handiwork with a satisfied nod. "Finished," he declared, holding a piece of shrapnel up so that Starscream could see his reflection. The Air Commander sat up excitedly, peering over his shoulder - then gave Megatron a blank look.

"You wrote your own name," Starscream said with disbelief. "You wrote '_Megatron_' under my wing. You really did that."

"Yeah, so? Nobody can see under there," growled Megatron, crossing his arms over his chest. Then he added dangerously "Or...nobody except _me_ should be looking under there, anyway."

"Well...at least it's a nice symbol," sighed the Seeker with a smile, betraying his own amusement. He twisted to get a better look at his newest tattoo, and Megatron decided to indulge his lover's vanity just this once, moving the mirror to a better angle.

"Besides," chuckled Megatron, "if anyone _does_ see it, they'll know they're in trouble."

Starscream fluttered his optics up at his Commander, turning to drape himself over the larger mech. "And why's that?" he purred.

"Because they'll know you're _mine_."


	43. Purr

**Purr**

No spoilers this time! Set way before the first movie, and takes place after drabble number 7, "Sparkling".  
This prompt was offered to me by Kyra Neko-Rei :D There were so many different things I could do with that word, but...this was the cutest XD

* * *

After a long and exhausting cycle, Megatron had made a mistake.

This much he could admit to himself, as he glared at the tiny sparkling crawling around on his bedroom floor. He'd been tired and grumpy, and to be fair, he'd told the mech to slag off several times. But the mech persisted, and he'd ripped his main energon line out, killing him in an instant.

Unfortunately, Megatron had also been too tired to realize that the mech was Starscream's carer.

Soundwave, rather unhelpfully, had his hands full with his own new sparkling, Ravage - and so on the _one_ day that Megatron wanted nothing more than a nice, long recharge, Starscream was dumped in his quarters. The Decepticon Commander followed the tiny form of the hatchling with narrowed optics as the baby crawled closer towards him.

The flier stared up at Megatron's massive silver pedes curiously, before prodding them with stumpy claws. Clicking with glee, Starscream flung his arms around one of the tyrant's toes, and began to gnaw on it.

Megatron was rather tempted to step on him. He growled threateningly down at the sparkling, kicking his leg upward in the hope that the flier would be catapulted across the room - but instead, Starscream squealed happily, still clinging to his toe. The silver mech kept his leg raised for a moment - then shook it violently. With another delighted shriek, the sparkling rolled down his outstretched leg and onto his lap. Starscream chirped up at him, wiggling his little limbs about randomly. The Lord Protector stared back in disbelief, then sighed, shaking his head.

"You win," he muttered irritably, flipping the sparkling over with a single claw. He stroked the half-formed stumps that would one day be wings, making Starscream purr contentedly. The small vibrations from the noise travelled slowly up his plating, and a wave of drowsiness washed over the Decepticon.

The sparkling shifted, curling into a little ball while continuing to rumble against Megatron's armour. With a rare, soft smile, the warlord shuttered his optics, letting his claw drift over the winglets.

*

When the new carer finally arrived, he found the Lord Protector snoring on his throne, a tiny ball of sparkling asleep in his lap - still purring, even in recharge.


	44. Medic

**Medic**

Post-ROTF again, but I'm guessing everyone has seen it now :D I want to go again!  
Inspired by a comment Shmoms left me about the last battle :p They may be a little OOC, I think. Hum.

* * *

"MEGATRON, LAND RIGHT NOW, OR SO HELP ME I WILL DRAG YOUR SORRY, DAMAGED AFT RIGHT BACK TO EARTH AND OPTIMUS CAN DEAL WITH YOU!" shrieked Starscream over their personal communication channel, out of range of the prying audios of the remaining troops.

The Decepticon Commander really didn't have much of a choice as his engines suddenly sputtered, only narrowly missing a crash landing on the surface of Mars. Starscream landed elegantly beside him, expression smug.

Megatron transformed back into bipedal mode, growling at the flier menacingly. "I didn't land because _you_ said to, you kn-"

"Yes, yes, you're the mighty Megatron and you answer to nobody," Starscream waved a claw dismissively, kneeling down to inspect Megatron's face. "But even you need a medic sometimes." He prodded a finger into the damaged metal of the tyrant's face, making Megatron hiss in pain. "Mm. I thought so," the flier concluded, turning to rummage in a subspace pocket for his tools.

"I need a _medic_, not a cocky, good-for-nothing Air Commander," snarled Megatron, kicking half-heartedly at the red, dusty ground.

Starscream smacked Megatron on the undamaged side of his head, then began his repairs in silence, clicking to himself in thought occasionally. It made the tyrant decidedly uneasy that Starscream had to think hard about what he was doing. The silver Decepticon rumbled now and then, making his displeasure known. The flier somehow managed to weld a piece of his forehead onto his chin at one point (_"It's _all_ silver_! How am _I_ supposed to know what goes where!?"), but finally, Starscream seemed to start superficial repairs. The Decepticon Commander ran a systems check, and finding himself at 84.2%, had to grudgingly admit that Starscream had done a decent job.

"You asked for me, you know," the Seeker said softly, breaking the silence as he filled in a particularly deep scratch. "At the end of the battle."

The silver mech faced away, embarassed, snorting an indignant puff of air through his vents. "...Well...you should have been at my side anyway!" he huffed childishly.

Starscream smiled knowingly, staring at Megatron patiently. The Commander just glared back for a while - but finally, rolled his optics dramatically. "_Fine_," he groused, "...Thank you. Starscream. For...coming to get me. And for repairing me. Sort of."

Instantly, the silver mech regretted his words, as the flier positively _beamed_ with smug victory. But instead of rubbing it in the tyrant's face, Starscream stood, dusted off the red dirt from his plates, transformed and took off with only two words; "You're welcome."


	45. Tingle

**Tingle**

This prompt was from Kamala11 ^^  
So many different directions to go with some words. No spoilers for ROTF, this chapter is pre-2007 movie.

* * *

As far as he could remember, it had started around the time Starscream had turned into a youngling, but even that Megatron wasn't sure of. Somewhere in the back of his processor, he sees sparkling optics blinking at him adoringly, and the faint, starting echoes of feeling.

It was gradual and unfamiliar. The same way that Scorponok would cling to Blackout's back, it would shiver up the Lord Protector's spine when he wasn't careful. Like warm energon on a cold day, seeping through his circuits. Like a constant ringing in his audio unit, but on a frequency just out of grasp, _just_ that bit too high for him to register correctly.

He remembers Starscream as his apprentice, laughing up at him after firing a particularly good shot. He remembers smiling down in return - then suddenly, the tingling, foreign sensation. He remembers frowning as the feeling washed over him, and Starscream had stopped laughing then. He remembers the youngling tugging at his arms, asking what he did wrong, asking if his shot was no good.

"It was very good, Starscream," he replied vaguely. "But that's enough for today." Then Thundercracker swooped in to collect Starscream, and that was that, he supposed.

But it wasn't. He learnt to ignore it, to repress it, acknowledging it just enough to keep it at bay. Megatron remembers spending countless hours pouring over the subject, sitting on his throne deep in thought deciphering, picking, probing. If there was one conclusion he could make, it was that it seemed to be the Seeker's fault; only when he was with his former apprentice did the tingling, the _itching_ appear. Then Starscream, Air Commander, would come to collect his orders for the day, and any progress the silver titan had made in his thoughts would shatter like glass.

It was, as he recalls it, a few days before he asked Starscream to be his bondmate that he finally figured it out. Walking side by side with the flier, Megatron abruptly stopped in his tracks - and beamed with confusion and relief. The Seeker arched an optic ridge up at him curiously.

"Starscream," he said, turning towards the flier with a rather bewildered expression. "I think I love you."


	46. Naive

**Naive**

I was sure someone suggested this to me as a prompt a while ago, but I can't find it in the reviews or my private messages. If it was you, tell me and I'll credit you here. This one takes place in the same storyline in the drabbles "baby", "sparkling", "catch", etc.

Warning for jailbait Starscream, if you're sensitive to that kind of stuff? A bit longer than usual, also.

* * *

The youngling was staring up at him with big, shocked optics, mouth covered by his claws. After a good few minutes of trying to ignore the Seeker, Megatron turned from the computer console he had been working at to meet Starscream's gaze.

"Can I help you, Starscream?" Megatron asked, frowning curiously down at the flier.

The flier motioned with his hands frantically for the silver mech to come down to his level. Megatron complied with an annoyed grunt, and Starscream trotted nearer to the Lord Protector's audio components, looking around suspiciously before whispering, as if imparting some terrible secret, "I saw..._Skywarp and Thundercracker_."

Megatron blinked. "...And?"

"And they were..." the flier hesitated a moment, fidgeting, "doing something funny."

The Lord Protector sat back up in his chair, groaning irritably. Those two were in _big_ trouble if they'd been caught interfacing by Starscream...he was NOT going to be the one to have to explain bonding to the youngling! That would be Thundercracker's job in a few years time. "And _what_ exactly were they doing?" he sighed.

"They were...um..." Starscream looked down at his toes with embarrassment, scuffing them against the floor nervously. "They were doing something with their mouths!" he squeaked.

Megatron's own optics widened in surprise. "Oh...that's all?" he said with relief. Crisis averted, then. But...wait, Starscream didn't know what they were doing? He'd instructed Thundercracker not to explain interfacing until the youngling was a bit older - apparently the flier's cousin had been a bit too strict on this rule.

"It's called a kiss," Megatron explained, relaxing back in his chair. "You put your mouthplates together with someone you like. It's very common."

"Oh...that makes sense I guess. Skywarp likes Thundercracker lots," Starscream said, scratching at his helm with a claw. "Is it...nice?"

The Lord Protector coughed awkwardly. "I...yes, I suppose so."

The youngling looked down at the floor again, as if to process this information. Then, he beamed back up at the silver mech, and asked innocently, "I like you! Can I kiss you?"

"_What_?" Megatron reared back and nearly fell off his chair in surprise. He stared down at the hopeful faceplates of the youngling, optics glittering up at him. He began to stutter, having absolutely no idea what to do. "I...well, Starscream, you...I really don't think...oh..._fine_. Just one kiss, to show you."

Starscream nodded happily, then closed his optics as he had seen the older fliers do, and waited. The Lord Protector grimaced, before leaning down to give Starscream a very soft, and very quick, kiss. It was awkward and clumsy, considering the size difference between their mouths and Megatron's large (and sharp) set of teeth.

"There," he concluded, pulling away.

The youngling opened up his optics, raising the tip of a digit to his mouthplates thoughtfully and tracing them with a smile. "Can I have another one?"

Megatron rolled his optics, though a faint twitch of his lips betrayed his amusement. "Maybe when you're older," he grumbled, shooing Starscream away with his large claws.


	47. Asphyxia

**Asphyxia**

Thank you to everyone leaving me reviews, I do so love reading them ^^

Something **WAY** darker this time, since the last few chapters felt a bit fluffy to me. I don't see the appeal of asphyxiation myself, but...it's Megatron and Starscream XD I've always seen their relationship as more than a little bit twisted.

Inspired by G1, but still set in the movie-verse, of course. There are quite a few instances of Megatron strangling Starscream, as I recall.

* * *

The sound is sickly and delightful. Megatron squeezes his claws tighter around the delicate cables beneath his palms, and Starscream's optic shutters snap open in horror, making a noise not unlike retching.

"_Lovely_," hisses Megatron, taking in the sight of the flier pinned against the berth, spark chamber half-open. He chuckles, low and lustful.

Suddenly, he releases his hand from around Starscream's neck. The Seeker gasps, arching underneath his lover as the energon rushes back into his helm's circuits, before twisting violently to one side. He coughs and chokes, spit dripping from his mouth and dribbling down his chin, and it's simply too wonderful for Megatron to bear.

With both silver hands now, he squeezes the beautiful neck, dipping his head down to lap at the liquid trickling down Starscream's cheeks. Tighter, tighter...the flier's vents begin to stutter and stumble, deliriously grinding against the larger body pushing against him. The Air Commander mouths something wordlessly, repeatedly, while his optics flicker from the lack of energon. He chokes again with a violent shudder, his protests becoming weak.

The Decepticon Commander smiles softly, even as he strangles his lover, dangling his mate between life and death, and kisses Starscream one last time before releasing his neck.

This time, Starscream really does purge his tanks. The smaller frame shivers next to Megatron, and with soothing claws the tyrant caresses his bonded, nuzzling against the bruised, crushed wiring. Starscream rolls over, staring up intensely at his lover, mouth twitching into a pleased grin.

"Again," he rasps adoringly.


	48. Parents

**Parents**

I had a lot of trouble writing this one. I tried writing it about five times and deleted what I'd done every time DX  
Surprisingly, the so-called "parents" in this chapter aren't Megatron and Starscream. Gasp! ;D

As a note, I didn't use Skywarp in earlier drabbles because I wasn't sure he existed in the movie-verse (TC appeared in the comics and has a toy), but apparantly there's a toy of Skywarp now too (a repaint, but...still).

* * *

Starscream isn't a sparkling anymore. They know this - but still, they don't quite accept it.

Thundercracker watches from across the mess hall. His younger 'cousin' sits next to the Lord Protector (too close for the elder Seeker's liking), claws laid innocently on the table (brushing Megatron's now and then), discussing something important (with shy glances and soft smiles). Thundercracker knows he isn't Starscream's creator. But the more he watches, the more he feels like a father. The more he wants to step in, pull Starscream away and warn him not to flirt with dangerous mechs.

Skywarp watches from across the mess hall, sitting unusually silent by his blue bondmate. Thundercracker's feelings spill into him from their bond, and he cannot help but agree. Skywarp knows he isn't Starscream's creator, knows he isn't even _remotely_ related to the youngest Seeker. But he, too, spent time raising and caring for the little flier. In the end, it was Skywarp that taught Starscream about the birds and the bees, since Thundercracker chickened out. And the more he watches, the more he feels like a mother. The more he wants to step in, pull Megatron away and warn him not to break the young Air Commander's heart.

The attraction between the Lord Protector and his Second in Command is almost tangible to them. They knew it was there, even before Starscream and Megatron did. They knew there was nothing they could do to stop it - Starscream outranks them now, and Megatron will always have what he wants.

"They'll bond one day," the black Seeker comments quietly. Thundercracker just grunts beside him, letting a few gears click sulkily. "It's a good match, at least. Megatron is powerful."

"_Too_ powerful," groans Thundercracker, as he watches the Lord Protector take Starscream's claws roughly in his larger, silver ones. "Will he use that power to protect Screamer, or to hurt him?"

Skywarp snorts. "Starscream can take care of himself, TC. He isn't our Air Commander for nothing." The black flier stands, dusting himself off. He turns to leave, then, hesitating, looking over his shoulder at his bondmate, "We're not his creators...but we taught him well."


	49. Stowaway

**Stowaway**

I can't believe this is the 49th chapter now, the next one will be the 50th. I'd like to do something special with it I guess, but I don't know what, so if you have suggestions or appropriate prompts, please do tell me! :D

Some crack now! Set after ROTF this time, but not really spoilerish at all. If you've seen it, you'll know which scene this is in reference to (if you still don't, drop me a note and I'll tell you, though I hope it's obvious XD)

* * *

He shutters his optics tightly, then opens them again, to make sure he isn't seeing things.

It's still there. It's tiny, compared to the size of their own species, so it doesn't surprise him that nobody noticed it. It's also, unfortunately, stuck on Megatron's aft, so perhaps it _has_ been noticed, and the other Decepticons were intelligent enough not to mention it.

"If I don't tell him, nobody will," Starscream supposes.

He shuffles closer to his bondmate and leader, who is currently yelling at Soundwave. The communications officer hasn't actually done anything, Starscream is sure, but he's glad Megatron is taking his anger out on someone else for once.

"My Lord..." he ventures quietly.

Megatron turns to glare at him, silence settling over the room. The Decepticon Commander raises one claw, as if to warn Starscream "not now", then whips around to continue bellowing at Soundwave. The flier looks down at..._it_, trying to inspect it closer without raising too much suspicion. As expected, an organic, certainly a stowaway from Earth, and definitely dead. It's crusty and freakish, a little shrivelled around the edges, and Starscream _really_ doesn't want to touch it, but Megatron doesn't seem to be running out of steam, and _maybe_ he can just pull it off, and maybe Megatron won't even notice-

...No such luck. Megatron _howls_ as Starscream rips it off.

The Decepticon Commander spins around, rage all over his faceplates, claws outstretched with murderous intent. Starscream just holds the dead organic up.

"It was on your aft, dear," he explains quietly. He places it in one of Megatron's palms, then turns on his heel to scurry away before the silver tyrant can react.

Bewildered, Megatron stares down at the dead starfish in his hand.


	50. Anniversary

**Anniversary**

We've reached the 50th drabble! Thank you so very much for all 260 reviews so far, it really means so much to me and it makes me happy to entertain you with my drabbles!

Kassie suggested this as a prompt, though I'd considered it myself before :D I was wondering whether there were any other ideas, but really, this IS the most fitting. Also, in celebration, I decided to make it a full length one-shot (nearly 1500 words!).

* * *

Megatron looked around his chambers with absolute horror.

He'd planned everything so meticulously. He'd enlisted the help of several other mechs to help him, at the risk of destroying his reputation. He'd started to get everything ready an entire _cycle_ in advance, and yet…Megatron looked around again, still unable to believe the utter mess, the chaos that had become his quarters. The Decepticon Commander groaned and decided to shut his optics, nursing his head in his claws.

Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse, the door chime rang.

* * *

Half a cycle earlier, five of the Constructicons stood to attention in Megatron's chambers. The Decepticon Commander stalked in, having finally brushed Starscream off. He surveyed the work they'd done, nodding to himself in satisfaction.

New chairs had been installed, perfect for sitting in and drinking a nice cube of high grade energon. Demolisher looked at them uneasily as the Decepticon Commander prodded at one, inspecting it closer. A small table that produced and filled cubes automatically was placed between them, ready to be filled with Megatron's choice of high-grade. A few bottles from Mixmaster's own store had been placed by it. In the bedroom, the berth had been completely rebuilt - widened and with enough space for two very large Decepticons. The walls had all been scrubbed clean, polished and buffed, so that the reflection of all six mechs in the room could be seen. Five of those mechs looked very worried indeed.

"My lord, if I may say, there's still hours yet before Starscream comes," Mixmaster mumbled, "may we continue to fine-tune our work for a while longer?"

"Nonsense, it looks finished to me," snorted Megatron, and he shooed them out irritably. No sooner had they walked out, than Soundwave shuffled in silently. Without even a word or a glance in the Commander's direction, the blue and silver Officer wandered towards the main console to load various files and playlists onto it, while simultaneously running an anti-virus and clean-up. Never unnerved by Soundwave's odd and antisocial behaviour, Megatron held his head high and went to stand menacingly behind the Communications Officer.

"_Thundercracker to Megatron!_" came a rather distressed voice over the communications channel, and the navy Seeker's worried face appeared on the screen.

"Acknowledged," Soundwave droned for Megatron. The Commander frowned slightly at this, though the satellite didn't seem to notice.

"_Starscream is being difficult. Skywarp is dealing with him right now, but we don't know how much longer we can hold him off_," reported the flier.

The Decepticon Warlord growled irritably. "Take him to Hook or something. Or give him a wax and polish. I only need another quarter-cycle." Without having to be asked, Soundwave closed the channel, and continued his rather mysterious work.

Abruptly, he turned around and stared piercingly at Megatron. "Files; loaded and awaiting your command. Console; 99.67% efficiency."

Megatron nodded, satisfied. "Dismissed." And with that, Soundwave wandered back out again. The silver mech surveyed his quarters once more, then strode purposefully towards a small cabinet that had been dusty just a few hours earlier. He withdrew a large cube from it, with an old symbol scratched into its side. Then he returned to the new chairs, and loaded it into the energon dispenser, completely ignoring Mixmaster's suggested high-grade mixes.

Excellent. Everything was ready, and a quarter cycle early. Perhaps there was even time for a light recharge before the evening came. With that thought in mind, he made his way to his newly reconstructed berth and lay do-

…and with a large crash, found himself scrambling on the floor. "WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE FALLEN!?" bellowed Megatron, struggling to remove himself from the broken pieces of his berth. His movements didn't help, and soon there was a sickening crunch as the rest of the bed gave in. He twisted his head around to see that the entire berth had collapsed underneath his weight and was now in several, rather pointy and uncomfortable-to-lie-on pieces.

He stood and dusted himself off, staring in disbelief at what had been his berth. "No matter," he hissed through gritted teeth, resolving to smash all five of the Constructicons' heads in. There was always the floor, after all, and he still had those nice new chairs. Ah, yes, the new chairs; perhaps he could have a nap in a sitting position and just try to ignore this…ah…setback.

Megatron shuffled over to the new chairs, and set himself down in the largest one delicately.

Predictably, it collapsed, and the Decepticon tyrant found himself on a pile of wires and sheet metal. He groaned, hesitantly reaching out a claw to prod the other chair - which crumbled with only the lightest of touches.

This, he supposed, was Primus' way of punishing him for not being patient. He should have let the Constructicons finish their fine tuning (though he was still going to kill all of them, he thought maliciously). Fortunately, Unicron had taught them how to make high-grade, and he still had _that_ to keep him company. He reached out and poured himself a small cube of the vintage high-grade he'd been saving for a special occasion. Vaguely, he registered that something smelled rather odd, but he shrugged it off and gulped down the energon.

Too late, he realized that it was the high-grade that smelled so strange.

The Decepticon Commander coughed and choked, spluttering and spitting to get the foul taste out of his mouth. With a roar, Megatron threw the cube against the wall, taking no delight as it smashed and the remaining contents splattered all over the wall. Covering his olfactory sensors with one hand, he removed the vintage energon and stared angrily at the symbol adorning the larger cube.

…Oh. Right. The symbol was a date. He'd placed this cube onto the Nemesis thousands of years ago, when it had first been sent into space to search for the sun harvester. After being stuck in the ice and dead for most of those years, it was no wonder it had gone from "vintage" to "rancid" in Megatron's absence. Said rancid smell was also currently stinking up his quarters.

"Ohhh slag," he moaned, beginning to panic. It was getting late now - there wasn't time for the Constructicons to fix this mess, and the smell was getting stronger, damn it all. Hurriedly, he opened the doors to his quarters, and desperately set about trying to get the stale energon _out_. It seemed to have turned into a gooey, sticky substance in the last thousand or so years, and was sticking fast to the newly polished wall.

There was nothing for it - Megatron had to use his claws. Frantically, he scratched and scraped, only for the horrible stuff to stick to his claws and spread its odour to everything he touched. It was sickening and bitter, and the silver mech felt rather inclined to purge his tanks.

"Slagging fragging glitching-!!!" he rushed into his wash racks, dragging out the hose and spraying the cleansing fluid over himself and everything in his quarters.

The wax and polish, not completely dry, proceeded to drip off right along with the stale energon. Megatron's jaw went slack in disbelief, as his nose twitched, telling him rather unhelpfully that although the high-grade was gone, the smell, sadly, was not.

Megatron looked around his chambers with absolute horror.

* * *

Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse, the door chime rang. Starscream happily let himself in, and started prattling on about something - then stopped, very abruptly, when he saw the mess.

"…Happy anniversary?" Megatron offered weakly. As if to mock him further, the main console interpreted these words to be Megatron's command to start playing soft, romantic music.

Starscream just blinked, his mouthplates forming a small 'o' shape in surprise. Then, very slowly, his mouth twitched into a smile, growing wider and wider as his red optics seemed to brighten joyfully.

"You remembered!" he laughed happily, scurrying forward to throw his arms around the larger mech's shoulders. "I didn't think you even knew when our anniversary was!"

Megatron didn't react for a moment, surprised that Starscream wasn't screeching angrily at him. He quickly shook it off and returned the embrace, still dripping with cleansing fluid along with his quarters. "Of course I remembered," he murmured, sighing softly and burying his silver face in the flier's neck to nip at cables. He withdrew, gesturing woefully at the mess. "I even had plans for us, but…well…you can see."

Starscream laughed again, softly this time, and leant up on his pedes to bite Megatron on the nose affectionately. "Stupid fragger," he chuckled, "it's enough that you even remembered."

He took the large silver claws in his own and began to lead the relieved tyrant out. "Come on, dumb-aft. I think we'll spend tonight in _my_ quarters instead."

…


	51. Brood

**Brood**

As in "broody" as well as "to think something over", but also in reference to Soundwave's seemingly endless supply of children. Pre-2007 movie.  
Jazas-art suggested "Birth" in reference to the end of drabble 39, "Stillborn", but I'm finding it very hard to give this pairing a sparkling XD Maybe one day, but for now, this will have to do.

* * *

He looks out over the balconies in the high towers of Trypticon, leaning lightly upon the edge to survey the grounds below. Megatron still slumbers in the room behind him, and perhaps it isn't a good idea to make his presence in the Lord Protector's private quarters known to the general public. But it's early in the morning, and the streets are quiet, so Starscream allows himself a moment of peace in the fresh, thin air.

The silence of the hazy morning is broken by soft chattering, clicking and chirping. The Air Commander looks down lazily, easily spotting Soundwave with his noisy herd of creations. The blue and silver mech strides elegantly along as his sparklings dance around his feet. They slip in between his legs and under his pedes, laughing merrily, but Soundwave does not seem to mind, nor does he ever step on them.

The Communications Officer pauses suddenly and looks up, meeting Starscream's gaze with a polite nod. Starscream nods back. Soundwave continues on his way. The flier wonders absently just how many creations Soundwave has (and where on Cybertron does he keep them all?). Only a few times has he ever seen the strange mech with _all_ of his creations - always like this in the early morning hours. Perhaps a form of exercise, Starscream supposes.

Soundwave stops in the distance to lean down and pick up a particularly young sparkling of his, tucking it between his plating, and Starscream wonders with longing what it would be like to hold one's child so close. It cannot be a painful process to create a new spark, he thinks, if Soundwave has had so very many of them. But unlike Soundwave, Starscream does not have the gift to create life on his own.

He wanders back inside to the relative darkness of Megatron's berth-room, stopping to consider his large, silver lover. Doubtless, any creation of theirs would have most of Megatron's features (the dominant mech in every way, Starscream thinks grudgingly). Perhaps with Starscream's optics, perhaps with Starscream's wings - yes, he could live with that. So long as it had his wings. But the mental image of a miniature Megatron still lingers in his processor.

The Lord Protector wakes that morning to Starscream choking with laughter on the floor.


	52. Brother

**Brother**

So, in the first movie, Optimus refers to Megatron as his brother.  
But then, shouldn't Megatron be a Prime too? Did Optimus mean "brother" in a "comrade" sense?

Anyway, there's yet another thing for the fandom to argue about XD But for the purposes of this drabble, they're...I dunno...half-brothers, maybe?

* * *

"Congratulations," Optimus says stiffly.

Megatron curls his lip into a sneer. "You don't mean that," he answers, and it's the truth - their bond betrays them. Optimus' posture becomes impossibly rigid, optics cold and hard. In such close proximity, the blue mech's feelings are abundantly clear to his silver brother. "Spare me the polite slag."

"I fear that you've made a mistake, brother," Optimus says, frowning. Whispers of thought processes leak across the weak bond they share. A thousand reasons for the bond to be broken. A hundred or more criticisms of the silver mech's new mate. An impressive collection of hurtful hearsay and rumour.

"And _I_ fear that it's none of your business!" snaps Megatron, anger radiating off his frame. The irritating chattering increases as he lets his own opinions flood the bond. "Who are _you_ to judge me, when it was _you_ that bonded with that _weak_ little femme Elita against the advice of the entire council?!"

Optimus twitches with indignation, engine growling angrily. "This is entirely different, Megatron," he hisses. "Starscream is violent, manipulative, treacherous and _far_ too young to even be an Air Commander, let alone your bondmate. Ratchet is constantly treating you two for injuries you've inflicted upon each other. Why you even bonded with him is beyond me."

"Because I love him," Megatron says bluntly, folding long arms across his chest, and it's not what Optimus wants to hear. "The same reason you, my hypocritical 'brother', bonded with Elita." The blue and red mech shakes his head in defeat, giving Megatron one last, hard glare, before leaving the Lord Protector's quarters.

From the shadowy room behind, Starscream emerges. "I love you too," he rasps smugly.

"Don't let it go to your processor," Megatron growls, stepping forward to caress the flier's faceplates with sharp fingers. "You _are_ violent, manipulative, and every one of the other things he called you."

The Seeker laughs, leaning into the touch. "And that's _exactly_ why you like me."


	53. Parasite

**Parasite**

The idea for this drabble came to me very suddenly, and it was so ridiculous I had to write it.  
Pretty much just crack, set pre-movies when Starscream was a youngling. Again. I guess the "Little" in "My Little Lover" has to come from somewhere ;)

* * *

"RAAAAWWWWRGHH!"

Before Megatron can turn to see what on Cybertron Starscream is screeching about, the youngling has launched himself at the Lord Protector's back, newly developed thrusters catapulting him against silver plating. Tiny claws dig into armour (too small to be painful), and Megatron blinks in confusion before he realizes that Starscream is staying there. The silver mech shrugs, trying to dislodge the miniature flier, but the Seeker doesn't budge.

"What in Primus' name are you doing?" Megatron asks, and in his surprise he cannot quite find it in himself to yell at the youngling.

"Shhh! I'm being a Scorponok! And you're Blackout!" Starscream whispers conspiratorially.

Megatron grimaces - he has an important meeting with Soundwave in minutes, and he does _not_ have time for this slag. "Starscream, _why_ are you not with Thundercracker?"

"Skywarp said he'd give me candied energon if I left him and Thundercracker alone for a while," he replies innocently, scrabbling around to get a better hold on Megatron's plating. A talon manages to catch a stray wire, and the older mech grunts in discomfort. "Now shh! Pretend I'm not here!"

Perhaps, if he's lucky, nobody will notice Starscream. Perhaps, if he's lucky, Skywarp will die a sudden, painful death in the next ten seconds, and Thundercracker will resume his duties as caretaker.

* * *

"Starscream; on your back. Query; shall I remove youngling?" Soundwave drones, the instant Megatron is in view.

The silver mech sighs, and buries his faceplates in his hands. "There is nothing on my back," he grumbles, and Starscream stifles a happy giggle. Despite his visor and battlemask, Soundwave manages to look surprised. "There. Is. Nothing. On. My. Back," Megatron repeats through gritted dental plating. The Communications Officer nods and apologizes, visor flashing with sudden understanding.

On the other side of the conference room, Scorponok peers over Blackout's shoulder to investigate the new 'symbiote'.


	54. Freeze

**Freeze**

This is a companion to the drabble "Melt". Just like that one, I'm not sure about this one XD But I haven't updated in a while so I thought I'd put it up anyway. This one does have a song suggestion to go with it, though! Look for the theme-song to Pan's Labyrinth on Youtube :D  
I have writer's block at the moment. I tried writing for some of the prompts I've been given recently, but I'm afraid I couldn't think of anything for them.

* * *

Recharge is long and painful.

Starscream dreams of somewhere white and dark, colder than any place on Cybertron. He dreams of being trapped, unable to make a sound, unable to move. He dreams of pain, of frost eating into circuits and ice contaminating his spark chamber. He dreams of a distant, gloomy sun hovering over a pale horizon, and a voice begging to him in agony. He dreams of faceplates frozen into a contorted grimace, of flickering red optics glaring at him accusingly. He dreams of trembling, silver claws reaching out, slipping through his grasp.

He wakes, screaming, to the worried faces of his trinemates shaking him out of recharge. They place black and blue claws over his chest comfortingly, and the temporary Commander of the Decepticon army shivers quietly in their embrace until the end of the cycle.

Bitter and weary, he points to a distant galaxy. "There," he rasps to his trine. The orders are relayed to the troops, a beacon sent out to the Nemesis, wherever it may be. The army is none the wiser that Megatron never did give Starscream instruments for finding the All-Spark, should he fail. Arrogant and sure, Megatron left his second in command with only an increasingly frail bond.

He reaches out again, but whatever visions came to him in sleep are gone, and all that he feels is an ache in his spark. His lover is alive - but barely.

His armour clatters as he shivers, cold creeping into his circuits, and he cannot explain why.


	55. Envy

**Envy**

Still got writers block, but I managed to drag this one out of my brain kicking and screaming.  
This prompt was from Shail666! I hope this drabble is ok.

* * *

Sometimes, he watches them, and feels nothing but envy.

Black and blue talons twine together, with none of the possessiveness that comes with Megatron's grip. His elders walk together easily, publicly, with none of the secrecy that comes with a position as high-up as second in command. The purple and blue fliers sit for long hours simply talking, without worry that their duties will keep them away from each other. Skywarp will lean in to whisper something to Thundercracker, and the navy seeker will laugh, and Starscream will watch from a distance with a scowl.

Megatron will never walk along the crystal gardens of Iacon with him, hand in hand. Megatron will never surprise him with romantic gifts. Megatron will never allow their relationship to be known amongst the public, to be anything other than a bizarre rumour. Megatron will never be quite so emotionally sensitive as Starscream's trine are, as a Seeker is.

Starscream knows this. But he doesn't quite accept it.

Then sometimes, Megatron surprises him, dragging him roughly by the wing back to their quarters to smother him in kisses. Sometimes, the Lord Protector will demand to go flying with Starscream out of nowhere, dancing in the thin atmosphere of Cybertron. Sometimes, the tyrant will reassert his dominance with crushing, twenty-cycle long embraces. Sometimes, the Decepticon Commander will try (and fail spectacularly) to be gentle in their berth, and Starscream loves him all the more for it.

Then, he watches them, and feels nothing but smug pride and pity.


	56. Rain

**Rain**

Another prompt from Shail666. If you've offered me a prompt and I haven't used it yet, please don't feel I'm being unfair! I only use the ones that inspire me, and it just so happened that another one of the ones s/he offered gave me an idea XD

Thank you again to everyone leaving reviews! I love reading them :D

* * *

It started with a single drop, burning a hole straight through Barricade's armour. The small group of mechs looked up at the sky fearfully. Drip, drop.

The alarms were activated, sirens blared, and suddenly Cybertron seemed empty, as every mech and femme scrambled to get inside or underground. Rain was a rare occurrence on Cybertron, with its weak atmosphere. The planet drifted aimlessly, away from its own dying sun, and occasionally, straight into acidic gas clouds. The rain started slowly, a light patter, soon building to near torrential levels.

The city-mechs were lucky enough, with complex underground networks allowing them to continue about their daily business. Megatron didn't particularly care about being stuck indoors, his duties demanding it of him on the most normal of days. But after five days of rain, the nagging feeling in his spark grew stronger, and the mysterious absence of his second in command more worrisome.

On the sixth day, there wasn't much to do - nothing more could be done until the monsoon stopped and communications were re-established with Kaon. The acid rain began seeping into cracks and pipes, and most of the city was busy trying to fix the irritating leaks. The Lord Protector took his leave, and headed straight for the Aerospace Command Centre.

From the moment he stepped inside, Megatron wondered if he'd mistakenly entered a lunatic asylum.

Fliers wrung their hands together, pacing about the spacious halls with agitation. A large group of them had gathered, with twitchy wings flickering, to sit and stare up at the skylights, praying for the rain to stop. Some of them moaned, other Seekers groaned, and every now and then one began to wail. The Lord Protector shuddered at the sight of the hundreds of jets deprived of sky, and hurried towards the living quarters in search of Starscream.

He found his bondmate curled tightly in a ball.

"Starscream…?" Megatron ventured. He received only a wing shivering in reply. "_Starscream_," he repeated insistently. The Air Commander peered up groggily, weary optics dim. The Lord Protector grimaced. Six days was possibly the longest any of the fliers had gone without the sky in centuries. He shuffled closer to the Seeker, dragging Starscream into his lap. Fanning the sand-coloured wings out with his claws, Megatron's vents began to huff.

Starscream yelped in surprise, arching up as the rush of air hit his wings. "Offline your optics," Megatron commanded, pushing the flier back down. The Air Commander nodded, relaxing back into the silver mech's grip, as Megatron cycled another burst of air against him. He shivered with delight, and the nagging ache over their bond dulled, and for a while, Megatron _was_ the sky.


	57. Potential

**Potential**

This is one of those drabbles that came to me at 2 in the morning. I should have written it then, it doesn't feel quite the same now DX I've got to the point where I have no idea who has suggested what anymore! (After 57 chapters and 360 reviews (wooow), it can't be helped...) So if you did ever suggest "potential" to me, please tell me.

* * *

Megatron learnt, purely by chance, that Starscream rarely used his full potential.

If there was one lesson that Starscream truly took to spark, it was the art of deceit. Better, always, to lull those around him into a false sense of security. In the days following this revelation, Megatron watched his bonded with growing admiration - and horror. Each bumbling, obvious mistake that the Air Commander made suddenly seemed cold and calculated. All of his failures seemed a mask for his true power. Every swipe of his claws felt lazy and effortless.

And perhaps the most frightening part was that it was impossible to tell which blunders were real. Even the stray memory, that Megatron had caught during one of their merges and had led to this discovery, could have been nudged his way on purpose.

The Decepticon Warlord knew, however, that Starscream had an ego to match his own. Starscream's pride in his reputation as the fastest flier was not something that would bow to the rules of a predator hiding amongst his prey. If ever his record was broken, the Air Commander would drop everything to reclaim his title once again. Alone in the canyons outside Trypticon, the silver mech took the Seeker's chin in his hands and examined the flier's red optics mistrustfully. Starscream submitted to the scrutiny, quite content with having set Megatron on edge.

"You won't even trust your mate now?" teased the flier as he was examined, his eyes glittering mischievously.

The tyrant snorted, refusing to be fooled any longer. His face furrowed into a grim frown. "Tell me then, lover," Megatron said, "how fast can you really fly?"

Starscream just laughed, spread his wings, and in seconds became a tiny dot on the horizon.


	58. Son

**Son**

Future AU kind of thing. Proper note at the end!

* * *

The titanic mech rips the navy Autobot's throat out, energon spattering over him as he howls with laughter.

Over by the wall, the younger scout watches his companion die with terror, his own memory files flashing before his processor. He regards the cackling mech with a mixture of horror and fear - black, sharp armour glinting (almost dark purple) in the pale light. The Decepticon (has to be, the scout thinks, no Autobot has teeth like that) bares his fangs, pointed and longer than even Megatron's.

Megatron…? No, the scout thinks, as the black mech abruptly stops laughing and turns to stare curiously at the remaining Autobot, huddled against the wall. Megatron never had wings, angled downwards and draped back like some sort of cape. The helm, it has to be said, is remarkably similar, if slightly more intimidating in black. A single, silver marking, like some sort of tattoo, hangs over his optics in old Cybertronian.

"A…aren't you going to kill me?" the red scout asks, intending it as a challenge but coming out with far more surprise than he'd hoped. The Decepticon just starts laughing again, and briefly, the scout wonders again if it _is_ Megatron and the defeated warlord has finally lost his circuits.

"No," he answers suddenly, the howling laughter stopping as quickly as it came. He flexes his claws pensively. "You can run along to your little…_Autobot_ friends," he spits with disgust, "and you can give them a message for me." He leans down close, red optics boring into the shivering blue ones.

"You tell them…that Galvatron, son of Megatron and Starscream, has come for revenge. Now," he straightens up, waving a hand dismissively with a crooked smile, "_run._"

* * *

A/N: Ok, so...I know a bunch of you have been waiting for me to give them a sparkling DX but I seem to be incapable of making OC's which aren't background characters, and I much prefer playing with canon ones. And, since Megatron came back from the dead in the movies without going all "TA-DAH! Galvatron!" I thought I'd use him as their sparkling. It makes sense to me, at least, but I'd love to know what you guys think! If you don't like it I might just leave this chapter as an alternate something or rather.


	59. Oedipus

**Oedipus**

I was so, so tempted to call this "cockblocked" XD You'll see why.  
Please look up what an "oedipus complex" is if you don't know, it will explain this drabble much better (I know I have some non-english readers).  
Anyway, the response so far to "Son" and Galvatron was positive, so I thought I'd upload one more o.o;; though please keep on with the feedback and letting me know what you think about it, I'm still not sure myself.

* * *

The tiny black…_thing_ glared up at him indignantly. Megatron glared right back, with an added huff of his considerably larger vents. Megatron moved to one side, intending to walk right past it. The thing tripped over itself, scrambling to block the warlord's path. With a wordless snarl, Megatron moved to the other side. With a miniature snarl of its own, it blocked him yet again. Starscream, for his part, didn't even bother to look up, too absorbed in the battle plan he was currently reading.

Then _it _started growling at him. Enough was enough.

"GALVATRON!" roared the Decepticon warlord, grabbing the hissing sparkling by the scruff-plates. Starscream peered up at his small family disinterestedly. Galvatron began swiping and spitting at his father with stubby claws and blunt fangs.

"This is _your_ fault," Megatron huffed at the Air Commander, jabbing an accusing talon in Starscream's direction. "He's taken after you!"

"He just loves his mommy more," Starscream replied smugly, reaching out lazily to take Galvatron into one claw. "He'll grow out of it." The black hatchling continued clicking angrily, keeping a wary optic on his larger creator. The flier stroked Galvatron's helm, then turned back to his datapad. From the safety of his "mother"s hold, the sparkling lifted his tiny fingers up in an obscene gesture aimed at his father.

Shrieking with rage, Megatron marched up to Starscream and smashed their mouths together in a demanding kiss. The Air Commander just blinked, bewildered, and moved his hand (and his son) out of the way. Galvatron began to scream angrily, jumping up and down and stamping his feet in Starscream's palm. When Megatron finally allowed the kiss to be broken, he immediately turned his attention to his son, optics burning red, and prodded the black sparkling with a claw.

"He's _mine_," the warlord snapped. "Back off, kid."

Galvatron bit him.


	60. Paranoia

**Paranoia**

I am certain someone suggested this as a prompt once. If it was you, tell me please!  
Hmm, I don't want these drabbles to become solely about Galvatron now that I've introduced him, but I've got lots of ideas for it (I hope you'll cut me some slack, over 55 chapters of just Megatron and Starscream means I'm low on inspiration for them at the moment).  
Thank you so much for the reviews! I'm glad that "Oedipus" had such a positive response!

* * *

Soundwave was by no means a small mech, but under the piercing (and somewhat paranoid) gaze of Megatron, the Communications Officer had the distinct impression that he was very, very tiny.

"…Request…repeat order?" he droned hesitantly.

Megatron growled, not one for saying things twice. "I _said_, I want you to eavesdrop on Starscream. He's been talking in some old-fashioned Seeker dialect to Galvatron for cycles. He's brainwashing him against me, I know it."

The satellite looked up at his Commander with disbelief. Megatron stared back, impatient and agitated. "Perhaps," Soundwave suggested, no stranger to parenting, "Starscream is trying to teach Galvatron the dialect from an early age."

"_Or_," countered Megatron, left optic twitching worrisomely, "he's trying to convince Galvatron to overthrow me as soon as he's powerful enough! Just listen, slag it, and tell me what he's saying!"

Soundwave sighed, peering around the corner to sneak a peek at the Air Commander. In an uncharacteristically tender moment, the flier had his sparkling tucked between his shoulder plating, one hand resting lightly on Galvatron to keep him from falling, the other stroking a tiny back plate. The navy mech jerked back, feeling as if he was interrupting something, only to bump right into Megatron's silver mass. With a defeated sigh of his vents, he listened.

"…_And that's when Daddy and Mommy and the rest of the Decepticons first took control of Kaon after the fighting started_," Starscream was saying proudly. "_Then after we built a fortress there we embarked on a new mission called..."_ Judging by the static signals Soundwave was receiving from the black hatchling, Starscream didn't seem to have realized that his son had fallen asleep some time ago to the soothing sound of his creator's voice. The flier continued to prattle merrily about Decepticon war victories.

"Analysis," Soundwave declared, turning to his Commander, "Megatron: paranoid. Suggestion: trust Starscream's maternal skills." And with that, he walked back down the corridor, the warlord glaring at his back indignantly the whole way.


	61. Pregnant

**Pregnant**

(Slightly altered) prompt from Foxyperv this time!  
Not quite what they suggested (sorry!), but hormonal Starscream was fun as hell to write XD Small reference to the drabble "Brood" in here, also.

* * *

Starscream had assumed it was not a painful process to create a new spark. After all, Soundwave had so very many sparklings. How wrong he'd been, he thought sullenly. He clutched at his chest with a pained groan, then turned to glare at his mate. "I _hate_ you right now," the flier spat viciously.

Megatron twisted in his throne to throw a bland look at his moody lover. Starscream was curled up on himself (in the middle of the floor, no less - Soundwave had tripped on him twice now) and was emitting sulky static bursts every few kliks. The Decepticon Commander sighed, readying himself to have _that_ conversation for the twentieth time.

"We've been through this, my dear," he drawled. "It wasn't intentional, for either of us."

"Can't we just kill it?" snapped Starscream, clawing at the plating covering his swollen spark chamber.

"I did offer," Megatron replied, arching an optic ridge with amusement. "But you don't really want to kill it, do you?" he added pointedly, more statement than question.

The Air Commander looked down at the floor sadly. "No…I didn't mean that…we can't kill our baby," he sighed miserably. Starscream slumped, wings drooping downwards in a pathetic display. The silver mech just shook his head at the sight, exasperated and wondering how many times he'd have to go through this exact same scenario before the sparkling finally separated from his mate's spark.

"Come here," he ordered, defeated. Starscream shuffled towards him slowly. Megatron dragged his bonded down into his lap as soon as he was in reach. "Yes, it's the wrong time for you to be carrying, Starscream. No, we don't really have enough energon to deal with it. But we were going to have a sparkling together eventually. Ultimately, it makes no difference if you carry it during the war. We'll just deal with it in the same way that we would if Cybertron was at peace."

"Megatron…I…I…" The flier burst into tears. "I _love_ you right now!"

The warlord sighed irritably as the Seeker continued sobbing into his chest, fully aware that in another cycle, Starscream would hate him. Again.


	62. Arrival

**Arrival**

Beebot managed to correctly guess what was gonna happen next ;D  
I was a bit stumped on what to call this drabble, since I wrote it without a particular word or prompt in mind. So I thought I'd settle on "arrival" as in "new arrivals".

* * *

"You know," Megatron said testily, "Galvatron's birth _wasn't_ an invitation for all the other officers to start carrying too."

Soundwave cleared his vents sheepishly, trying to make himself invisible. It was obvious that the splitspark was carrying yet again. Megatron had only excused it because the Communications Officer was still mourning his creations killed on Earth. Skywarp and Thundercracker, however, had no excuse whatsoever. Their tiny sparkling, a human-year younger than Galvatron, was currently nestled against Skywarp's chest. Galvatron stared at the purple sparkling with something in-between horror and curiosity.

"Ignore Lord Megatron," Starscream said haughtily, continuing to coo at his cousin's new sparkling. Megatron bristled behind him, debating whether or not it was appropriate to bitch-slap the flier in front of their son (who sat in one large, silver palm, chirping in confusion). "Have you decided on his designation?"

"Cyclonus. He'll be a Seeker, of course," Thundercracker answered proudly, reaching to pluck the lilac sparkling from Skywarp. Galvatron clicked excitedly, and the warlord grudgingly held his claw forward so that the Decepticon heir could inspect the new sparkling. Cyclonus, still young enough that circuits could be seen through his translucent plating, peered up at the black hatchling emotionlessly from his father's hold.

"He's so cuuute!" squealed the Air Commander. Megatron nearly dropped Galvatron from the sheer horror of his bondmate, the _second in command_ of his entire army, _squealing_. He sincerely hoped it was some sort of leftover from the gestation programming activated while carrying Galvatron. The Decepticon Commander had no patience for sparklings (except his own, sadly).

"Excuse me while I purge my tanks," the warlord muttered, and it wasn't entirely untrue; the display _had _made him feel rather queasy. Or possibly in need of high-grade. Yes, high-grade sounded nice. Megatron turned on his heel, leaving the Seekers to fuss over their youngest flier.

As they left, Galvatron clambered up his father's arm to peer over his shoulder, clicking contentedly, little red optics locked on his future Air Commander, future friend, future lover.


End file.
